


What Ginny Forgot

by keeperofthemoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Memory Loss, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 189,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofthemoon/pseuds/keeperofthemoon
Summary: “After one too many hits to the head from a Bludger, you’ve forgotten the past ten years,” Malfoy said slowly, staring at her as if she were dumb. “You’ve forgotten you have kids and you’ve forgotten me. Your husband. Which is rather rude, you must admit.”





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from the novel What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty, which is an awesome, insightful story. I recommend it fully. This story won’t be exactly like the novel, of course, but it will take bits of ideas from it. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, much love to my beta, Maya-nii. Without her, this work wouldn't be nearly as wonderful as it is!

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Cool, fresh, sharp.

The minty scent tickled her nose. She wanted to fan it away — the smell was overpowering — but she felt reluctant to move. If given the option to remain snuggled under the covers, she would stay forever. 

But the smell was far too distracting.

It reminded her strongly of someone. Their face popped up in her mind’s eye, but blurry, as if she were wearing Harry’s smudged glasses as a joke. Thinking harder on their identity made her head hurt.

Actually, it was already aching.

Had she been drinking last night? Perhaps. She occasionally indulged in a glass of wine with dinner, alone as Harry never seemed too interested, or maybe a glass of neat scotch. No, that wasn’t right at all. She never drank scotch, period. And if she did, she rarely drank it neat. Ginny cringed at the idea. 

When would she even casually drink scotch? Before bed? After dinner? With dinner? No, she hardly drank scotch. If Harry was already wary of her wine-drinking at dinner, he would most certainly worry over her scotch-drinking. 

But she had moderated her drinking. Playing Quidditch professionally didn’t leave her with room to indulge. She had decided, long ago, that she wanted to pursue Quidditch beyond a recreational interest. Marriage? Yes, of course, in the distant future. Harry wasn’t going anywhere and neither was she. Kids? Well, it was likely. Harry yearned for his own children. He desperately wanted to start a family.

She simply wasn’t ready.

Her head pulsed at the thought and Ginny tried to turn over in bed.

But she wasn’t in _her_ bed. Alarms rang in her head, obnoxiously echoing within her skull. The bed was too hard, like cement— no, it wasn’t cement. Her fingers relaxed as she took a deep breath, feeling softness beneath them.

Maybe she was on the couch. Or on the floor in front of the fireplace? After a night of drinking with Ron and George, Ginny would sometimes fall asleep in front of the fire. Harry would always laugh when he spotted her in the morning, and offer to make her tea. 

The minty aroma drifted into her memory again and a clearer image of the mysterious person formed in her mind. She could feel their touch, their fingertips, brush against her temple, pushing her hair away from her face. The gesture soothed her deeply, and she could hear his chuckle, low and deep, as if he knew his touch had an effect on her. 

Her stomach twisted from emotion, one that was deep and hot, that Ginny tried to identify. Longing and anger and happiness and lust and… much more. She hated it, hated that the feelings were associated with someone other than Harry.

“Ginny?”

She ignored the voice and suddenly wondered what she had done the previous night that could have given her a raging headache and random thoughts. Had she really gone and drank with her brothers? Ginny fought to recall. Not last night. The children had been up late, debating which house they would be sorted in—

“Can you hear us?”

The children? What children? Teddy? Had she been with Harry and Teddy last night? 

She was desperate to catch her breath, to open her eyes, to find out what had happened. But her head pounded and she really didn’t wish to witness the ruckus she had caused. Was Harry angry with her? Was that why she felt so strange? Had they gotten in a row?

“Ginny, open your eyes, poppet, please.”

Ginny struggled to think. She definitely hadn’t been with Teddy and Harry; Harry usually stayed over at Andromeda’s when he and Teddy had sleepovers, and he rarely brought Teddy to their flat unless it was during the early morning. If she had been with Ron and George, their meetup would have been impulsive, which was uncharacteristic of her brothers. The only rational explanation was that she and Harry had fought. Their rows were frequent, with their full-time work and hectic schedules amongst other things.

Mint.

It overwhelmed her senses and then, with horror, she could view the person from her memory clearly. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, a person she hadn’t thought of in years, brushing her hair away, his intense scent in her nose, his lips curling upwards as he stared at her.

“Mrs. Malfoy? Please, wake up!”

Ginny’s eyes burst open and she jolted upright. Weights around her wrists prevented her from moving freely, and she squirmed against the restraints. Had she cheated on Harry? Had she met Malfoy last night? Had they… dear Merlin, had they kissed? Or more? She would never, ever cheat on Harry. But to do so with Malfoy…

Her head roared the longer she struggled and she paused, weak from the pain. Voices around her spoke rapidly— oh, they were speaking to her. Ginny squinted up at the faces above her through the blinding agony she felt. They were concerned, all women speaking at once. She wanted to hear what they were saying but, Merlin help her, if she didn’t obtain a headache cure soon, she would get sick all over them.

“Ginny? Ginny?” a familiar voice rang above the chaos. “Everyone shut it, will you? Back off! She’s not going to run for the mountains!”

Maggie Juniper pushed everyone away without hesitation. Once she surmised that Ginny finally had some breathing space, she turned her attention back to her wounded friend. Relief filled Ginny. Ever since she had joined the Holyhead Harpies, Maggie had been her first real friend. Although a few years older than her, Maggie had made sure she felt welcomed despite knowing that Ginny would eventually settle in.

Ginny frowned as she observed her friend. Maggie looked worn out. Perhaps she had fallen ill? Tiredness haunted her, making her appear aged.

“The Mediwitch is coming, Gin,” Maggie promised. “You took quite a blow to the head there.”

Frowning, Ginny lifted her hand to tenderly touch her head.

“What happened?” she muttered, looking away from Maggie to the strangers that anxiously watched. “What’s going on?”

“Nasty hits like that can cause concussions,” a random girl said loudly. “She’s likely not to remember—”

“Shut it, Rogers,” Maggie snapped over her shoulder before looking back at Ginny affectionately. “This isn’t the first hit we’ve seen from a Bludger.”

“A Bludger?” Ginny faintly asked, grimacing when her fingers found the bruise.

“Yes, but first one to the head,” another girl remarked.

“To the head?” Her voice sounded oddly calm in spite of her rising panic.

She had taken a Bludger to the head. In all her years of spectating and playing Quidditch, she had never witnessed a player receiving a Bludger-related head injury.  


“It skimmed you,” Maggie assured her. “You didn’t seem to be paying attention, which was rather silly of you. You’re familiar with the rules.”

Ginny quickly looked around again. She was lying on the grassy ground of a Quidditch field. She practiced in the familiar field with the Holyhead Harpies. But she didn’t recognize any of the girls that stood around her. Only Maggie, who looked different from the last time they had practiced together. Her black, curly hair was much longer and pulled back in a braid. Her skin was brown, tanned from hours of practice under the sun. There was an unknown scar trailing down from her left ear to her neck.

“What happened?” Ginny asked, reaching up to trace the scar.

Maggie tilted her head, eyes narrowing. 

“Ginny, you were there,” she answered slowly. “Remember? Years ago, I had that row with, well, you know, Peter. And—”

“Peter?” 

Her mind frantically tried to put a face to the name Maggie casually spoke of. She didn’t know a Peter, couldn’t picture anyone for the life of her, and she felt the panic spread, seeping into her blood like poison.

“Maggie, something’s wrong,” she whispered, tugging at her friend’s hand.

Maggie’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but before she could speak, a round woman hurried over, waving her wand over Ginny. The Mediwitch. With a tight squeeze of her hand, Maggie and Ginny watched as the Mediwitch traced runes into the air. Around them, the other women spoke in hushed whispers.

“Who are they?” 

Maggie looked away.

“Who?”

“Those girls.” Ginny pointed in the direction of the crowd.

Now that she had a second to study them, she noticed that they were all sweaty and dirty, clad in training gear.

Maggie’s lips twitched — a telltale sign that she was worried.

“Ginny,” she said softly. “They’re the team.”

At her blank expression, Maggie looked from the Mediwitch back to her.

“The Holyhead Harpies. They’re training for the next season.”

Ginny blinked in surprise as the Mediwitch sighed loudly.

“Off to St. Mungo’s, I’m afraid. Don’t have the ability to treat her here. Serious head injury. Really, love, you need to be careful when reporting on the field. I told the advisors that having additional personnel on the field was rather stupid. But did they listen?” the Mediwitch huffed, tucking her wand away. “I’ll be taking her there myself, if you please. With that, I’d rather practice end for the day. Don’t want to risk another injury, do we?”

With a burst of strength, Ginny reached up and tugged Maggie’s face close to hers.

“You need to get Harry for me. Something’s going on,” Ginny hissed. 

She could feel the onlookers’ eyes on her, and she didn’t like being watched and judged. A Bludger to the head and now she seemed a bit off, they would say. The last thing she wanted was for the news to reach Rita Skeeter, who was enough of a nightmare without the additional gossip. 

“Harry?” Maggie tried to pull back but Ginny kept her grip.

“Margaret?” the Mediwitch called.

“Yes, Harry,” Ginny snapped, frustration building. 

At Maggie’s blank expression, her frustration left and a wave of dread washed over her.

“Harry Potter,” Ginny whispered. “My boyfriend.”

Maggie looked incredibly nervous at her words.

“Ginny, poppet, what year do you think it is now?”

“Margaret! I really must be taking her if you’d step to the side,” the Mediwitch ordered.

They both ignored her, knowing that time was running out. What year did she think it was? Intense pain overwhelmed her and she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her insides squirm. What year was it? What year was it? _What year was it?_ 2007, of course.

Before she could reply, her breakfast, or perhaps it was lunch or dinner, rose and spilled out of her mouth. She could hear the Mediwitch shout but the edges of her vision were darkening. Maggie was talking as well as she placed her warm hand to Ginny’s face. Then, all she saw was black.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

When she opened her eyes again, unfamiliar persons hovered above her, speaking quickly while working. Healers. The pain was so severe that her nausea returned.

“My boyfriend,” she managed to mumble. “Can you contact my boyfriend?”

The only person she wanted was to see Harry.

One of the Healers quietened as he noticed her. He nodded his head kindly.

“Your husband has been contacted but he’s overseas. Your family has been notified and they’ll be here soon,” he promised.

She passed out before she could respond.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

A soft humming woke her up. Her surroundings were far too white, and she squinted and groaned at the sight. A chuckle sounded to her left and someone squeezed her shoulder.

“Alright there, Gin?” 

Ron.

Ginny looked over at her brother and sagged in relief. She wasn’t sure who she had expected but she was insanely happy to see Ron.

“I had the worst…” she paused as she tore her gaze away.

She was in St. Mungo’s. The realization was instant. Ginny sat up, or tried to, but Ron’s hand on her shoulder stilled her.

“Easy there, Gin. Your head is fragile right now,” Ron told her, a teasing lilt colouring his words. “Mum will kill me if I let you out of bed before she gets here.”

A chill crept up Ginny’s spine. Even Ron looked different, Ron who constantly remained the same. His hair, Merlin’s beard, had a streak of grey! It was faint but it existed. Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, and a light dusting of hair covered his jawline. Ron had never been able to grow a beard. He was often mocked for his inability to sport facial hair. Nothing felt right or real.

Ron froze as she visibly panicked.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, inching closer. “You feel sick? Should I call for someone?”

“No, no,” she said, waving his concern away. “I just. I think I’ve gone mad. Is that possible? From a bump to the head?”

Ron leaned back in his seat and shrugged.

“Dunno,” he told her helpfully. “The Healer, who attended to you, said that you went untreated for too long. You should’ve been brought over right away.”

His light eyes danced over her face, studying her. 

“Come on, Gin, talk to me.”

Ginny lifted her hands in front of her and stared at them. There were more veins than she remembered. Or she was imagining things. Her nails were painted a bright red at one point, the paint chipped off in places now. The last finger was completely void of the colour. And… the tan line on her ring finger was unmistakable.

She hid her hands under the covers.

“Gin- _ny_ ,” Ron sing-songed. “I won’t tell mum.”

She rolled her eyes freely and Ron grinned. She had to confide in someone. Ginny couldn’t hold in her worries forever. Something was amiss. Maybe she was in a different universe. Or she had managed to time travel. Or…

“What year is it?” she finally inquired.

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. And he paused for a second before responding.

“2017. Or 2016— no, definitely 2017. Rose just left for Hogwarts, which makes her eleven, and that means the year is 2017, without a doubt,” he answered, partly to himself.

“2017?” her voice sounded weak to her ears.

Ron nodded, though he grew concerned.

“What year do you think it is?” 

Ginny licked her lips but her mouth had gone so dry that there wasn’t any saliva. She needed water, she needed fresh air, and she needed to see a Healer. The year was not 2017. It wasn’t possible. She was being pranked, her family was fooling her, and they were being silly if they had thought that she would fall for their trickery.

She was pushing off the bedsheets and standing on her feet before Ron could jump out of his seat. Where was her Healer? If she could speak to them, all would be explained. Her legs wobbled on the tile and the world swam in front of her eyes. The world tilted or… no, she slumped against the wall. Ron was instantly by her side, gripping her arms gently and steering her back to the bed.

“Are you mad?” Ron all but hissed. “You have a head injury, arse.”

He sat her on the edge of the bed and took a seat next to her. There wasn’t enough room for the both of them but he didn’t seem to mind partially hanging off the bed. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Ron tilted his head to look down at her.

“Tell me the truth,” he prodded. 

Ginny took a deep breath and shook her head. The movement caused a light shock to shoot through her body.

“It isn’t 2017,” she admitted. “Not to me.”

He swallowed loudly at her words and he appeared deep in thought. If it was really 2017, ten years further than she remembered, Ron was likely speculating that the Bludger had knocked a screw loose in her head. He was probably figuring out the best way to keep her calm until their mum showed up. Hugging her closer to him, Ron cleared his throat.

“It was a bad hit,” he said instead, surprising her. “Let me fetch a Healer. We’ll have some answers.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stood. Ginny cried out, grabbing his arm.

“They’ll be coming around soon, right?” Ron shrugged at her question. “Stay with me, please. I— I’m pretty terrified right now, to be honest.”

He gently pushed her to lie back on the bed. A frown formed between his eyebrows as he reclaimed his seat, sighed loudly, and met her eyes. 

“What’s the last thing that you remember?”

Ginny tried to wet her lips again with little success. Ron reached over and pressed a cup of water into her hands. The hands she didn’t recognise. No, the ring mark on her finger she didn’t recognise. She gulped the water down, feeling ill again from her empty stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut while the nausea passed.

Ron was still staring when she reopened them.

“Come on,” he pushed, touching her lightly on the arm as if it would help her along. 

She nodded and began to think. The last thing she remembered? A person’s lips brushing her cheek as she bade them goodbye. Ginny shook her head. Harry. Harry had kissed her goodbye. Where was she going? 

“Or, erm.” Ron coughed into his hand. “What did you eat for breakfast?”

Ginny glanced over at him and he smiled at her.

“It’s an easier question, yeah?”

Was it as easy to answer? Ginny bit her lip. Breakfast? She usually had some toast, laden with peanut butter or jam, and a cup of tea. A nice, light breakfast. But Ginny wasn’t certain she had had her usual. On some days, she switched her routine for a more extravagant breakfast of eggs and ham. Or, if she was feeling particularly creative, she attempted to make waffles by hand like Hermione had taught her.

Ron’s patience wore thin the longer she remained quiet.

“I should get the Healer,” he spoke up when several minutes had passed in silence.

Ginny’s hand whipped out and held onto his arm, squeezing it tight.

“Toast?” she told him quietly.

“Was that a question or a statement, Gin?” he sighed.

“You sound like Hermione,” Ginny grumbled.

He scowled.

“And you sound like a nut. Let’s make it easier then, if you can’t remember breakfast. Your children. What are their names?”

Ron was confident that she would have a ready response, sitting back down. He ran a hand through his short hair and looked up at her. He blanched at the sight of her pale face.

“Gin?” He reached for her.

“I have children?” she asked faintly.

She had children. It was 2017 and she had children. The look on Ron’s face was proof. There were no tricks, no foolery on her family’s end. Her condition was grave now. Ginny had been hit in the head and… and had forgotten years.

“I need to speak to a Healer,” Ron said quickly, his face flushing deep. “Something’s wrong.” 

“No! Ron, no!” Ginny screamed. “You have to sit and tell me. Tell me everything. Where’s Harry?”

“Harry?” Ron looked stunned to hear his best friend’s name. 

Ginny took a shuddering breath.

“The Healer said that he was overseas but he had been contacted. Have you talked to him? Where is he? I want to see him; I need to talk to him.”

_I need him to tell me that everything will be okay_ , she thought desperately.

Ron looked comical in his confusion.

“Harry’s not overseas, Gin,” he told her. “Pretty sure he’s at his flat. Why would you want to see—”

He suddenly stopped. His flush deepened, turning an ugly purple. Ginny’s heart raced at the sight.

“Tell me,” she ordered.

“Healer. Gotta, gotta go get ‘em, be right back!”

“Ron! Ron, tell me!”

But he dashed out of the room. Ginny was out of bed, ready to chase him down and obtain answers, just as Ron, a Healer Ginny didn’t recognise, and her mother entered. Molly, in all her loveliness, headed for Ginny straight away to embrace her.

“Sit down, dear, sit. I’m sorry it took so long; I was watching the children, as you know, and took them over to Ron and Hermione’s so I could come over. They’re very worried, of course. You look pale. Doesn’t she look pale? And skinny. Have you been sick?”

Ginny allowed herself to be fussed over but her mum’s voice blocked out Ron’s conversation with the Healer. The Healer was nodding, occasionally glancing over at Ginny before looking away, as if everything Ron had mentioned was reflected on her form. She glared at her brother and his face darkened in shame.

“Ginny, dear, did you hear me?” her mum asked.

She tore her gaze away from the pair and to her mother.

“No,” she replied honestly.

Her mum looked much older but Ginny was able to dismiss any differences. She was still real and very much the same. The hat her mum wore was one she had since Ginny’s second year at Hogwarts. She had knitted them both a matching pair over autumn — a friendly reminder that she was there for her. 

Ginny sighed and leaned into her mother’s touch.

“You look tired,” her mum commented.

She nodded in agreement.

The Healer turned away from Ron and walked over to the bed. He squatted beside her and Ginny recognised him immediately. He was the same Healer who had said that he contacted her… her husband. Ginny glanced down at her hand, at the tan line, and her stomach flipped. He peered into her eyes, had her look back and forth, took notes on his clipboard, and leaned back.

“Mrs.—”

“Ginny,” Ron interrupted, his face still bright red. “Call her Ginny.”

Her mum gasped out a soft “Ronald!” but the Healer nodded slowly, clearly remembering what Ron had told him. Ginny felt sick again.

“Ginny,” the Healer began again. “Your brother tells me that you’ve lost a significant amount of your memory. This is very common with concussions. Don’t be afraid. You were hit in the head by a loose Bludger and, from what witnesses said, fell a far distance. Memory loss happens. Your memories will return, certainly.”

“When?” Ginny asked at the same time as her mother piped in with, “You’ve lost your memory? She’s lost her memory?”

The Healer regarded Ginny as Ron nodded miserably to Molly.

“We’ve given you some potions to take at home to speed up the process. But a week, most likely. Give or take. This doesn’t happen very often. Bludgers to the head, so,” he paused. “A week.”

“So… this isn’t a dream?” she asked softly.

“No,” the Healer responded kindly, patting her hand. “It will be all right. If you’d like, you may stay at St. Mungo’s for observation.”

“What if my memories won’t return after a week?” Ginny questioned desperately.

The Healer looked surprised.

“Come back and see me,” he told her. “However, I have plenty of faith that you’ll be fine within a few days.”

Ginny didn’t hesitate on her decision to not spend another minute in St. Mungo’s. She had never been a fan of hospitals and the idea of spending the night alone chilled her to the bone. The Healer didn’t stay long, only lingering to appease Molly by divulging her all the details on file. Ron sat quietly beside Ginny as their mother prodded for information to her heart’s content. When she stared at him, lost, he offered her a weak smile.

“We’ll tell you everything when we get home,” Ron promised.

“Where’s home?”

“The Burrow,” Ron replied, his smile genuine. “Always. Mum will want you to spend the night there anyway, to keep an eye on you.”

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

She wanted to know everything she had forgotten. Truly, she did. Ginny had children; the sheer idea frightened her ten years ago. She also had a husband who, after casual observation, was not Harry. Her heart broke at the thought but she was determined to mend anything that had happened between her and Harry. They had been through so much and… she would fix things, no matter what.

But she had an unknown husband. Her children, however many of them there were, shared half of their DNA of her mystery husband. A decade ago, there was no one else in her sights except Harry. Clearly she had moved on after they had broken up. But with whom?

Her mum filled out her discharge papers and Ron stood anxiously by her side. Once her departure was approved, Ron presented her wand and then offered to assist her with Side-Along Apparition. Having her wand in her hand made her feel normal again and she managed a smile before nodding.

Ginny had a house somewhere in the country. A house filled with children. Yet her finger bore no ring. Perhaps life wasn’t as blissful as she had thought.

She could find Harry.

Ginny would fix them.

Her body seemed to squeeze and then expand and the brightness of St. Mungo’s was replaced with the darkness of the heavens. Ginny looked up at the sky and the stars swam in front of her, dodging each other in a fight for her attention. She closed her eyes tightly and opened them again. The world had righted itself. Ron was holding onto her elbow, eyeing her but saying nothing. Her mum was already rushing up the path to the Burrow, muttering about tea and bedrest.

Swallowing a deep breath, Ginny felt the frost burn her lungs. Even the weather was different. She could remember the sun on her face, warming her cheeks, sweat beading her forehead, and a summer breeze whisking her hair as she flew higher into the sky…

It was winter now. She could always spy the telltale signs of the Burrow during the cold season. The chickens were snuggled warmly in their coop instead of roaming the front yard. A trail of smoke would rise from the chimney, for the fireplace was lit constantly, maintaining a toasty interior for the family. The lopsided sign on the front yard, declaring the property The Burrow, had twinkling lights wrapped around it during the holidays. Each light winked at her as she walked past, towards her home.

Ron helped her up to the front door and she wanted to both shrug him off and hug him closer once they stepped inside. She could hear her mum from the kitchen, setting the kettle on to heat. Ginny bit her lip as she looked around. The Burrow, thankfully, remained untouched except for the pictures. Framed photographs hung on the walls, much more than she had ever seen. She breathed out in surprise and reached out to touch the first one. It was a family picture, from when they visited Bill in Egypt.

She smiled. She could remember the trip, clear as day. The warmth of the sun on her pale arms and forehead, the unique smell of sand and humidity that lingered in the air, Fred’s laugh as he convinced her to distract their parents so that he and George could sneak into a pyramid. Studying the picture relieved the weight off her shoulders. Her mum had kept the family picture on the mantle above the fireplace for years. Eventually, a kind soul had purchased a frame for it.

When she moved onto the next photograph, she noticed Ron had slipped into the kitchen with their mother. Ginny followed slowly. Children’s toys littered the ground — that was new. On the kitchen walls, several drawings had been pasted on. She glanced at them as she sat at the kitchen table. One drawing was of a dragon. There was a stick figure with bright orange hair below the dragon. She could only assume that it was Charlie. Written in large letters at the bottom was the name GRAY.

The loud clink of china snapped her attention back to Molly and Ron. A fresh cup of tea sat before her. She lifted it slowly to her lips and inhaled the heat. There was no way she was going to drink before she had her answers.

“How are you feeling, dear?” her mum asked, looking torn between sitting down and preparing some food. “Your father is at the Ministry but he’ll be home soon, and he’ll be so pleased to see you. I had asked him to stay at work, that I’d watch over you. And for him not to worry, he’s very busy these days, Ginny, as you know—”

Ron sighed loudly.

“Sit down, mum,” he implored.

“Are you hungry, Ginny? I have plenty of food. The children barely touched their meals once they heard about—”

Her head pounded. Children. Her children? From Ron’s subsequent sigh to her mum’s wide-eyed look upon the realization of her mistake, Ginny could only assume so.

“Mum, sit, please,” Ginny suggested. “I only want… I want the both of you to tell me the truth. If this is, if this is somehow real… and it’s beginning to be frighteningly so… then I need to know what I’ve forgotten.”

Molly finally sat, hands twisting in her lap. Ron shared a look with their mum before turning to Ginny.

“You love your life, Gin,” he started truthfully.

“You do,” her mum added, nodding. “You’re very happy.”

They were stalling, as though preparing her for a death sentence. What had she done? Evidently, they were withholding certain information from her.

“The last thing I remember,” she offered, pushing past her fears, “is being with Harry. We’re living… we were living in the flat in Godric’s Hollow. I’m playing for the Holyhead Harpies. Rose’s first birthday had just passed. We celebrated at your new house, Ron, and you tried to blow up all the balloons yourself and none of them floated. Hermione said they needed some sort of special gas or something.”

Ron smiled fondly at the memory.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” said Ron, eyebrows arching. “That was ten years ago, Gin.”

“Rose is at Hogwarts,” Ginny muttered, shaking her head.

If Rose was at Hogwarts, Teddy and Victoire were now older students themselves. She had missed their growths. Or, rather, she supposed it was all simply missing from her head.

“Who am I married to?” she groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Just tell me. You’re both clearly dodging the reality of my situation.”

She eyed her brother and mother. Ron’s lips were pressed together and her mum was constantly sighing, softly in despair. _Well, mum, imagine how I feel,_ she wanted to say yet refrained. Bitterness wouldn’t help when she needed answers.

A thought tugged at the strings of her memory. Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed as she recalled. Someone had called her a name when she first woke up… she had been reliving a memory, or a dream, and dismissed the incident…

Ginny pushed away from the table abruptly, startling her family. Her mum dropped her cup and the china shattered on the floor.

“Don’t… don’t tell me,” Ginny cried out. “Malfoy? Is it— am I— is it Malfoy? Tell me, please, tell me I’m wrong.”  


Tears sprung from her eyes. She had been called Mrs. Malfoy at the Quidditch field. And she had a horrible dream — or was it a memory — of Malfoy touching her face. She had been _happy_. Dear Merlin, it couldn’t be true.  


“Gin, it’s fine—” Ron began but she screamed.  


“ _You’re_ okay with this? _You?_ How did you not stop me? How did this happen? Ron, tell me the truth! Am I married to Malfoy?”  


Her naked finger suddenly felt heavy.  


“Ginny, listen,” he tried again.  


“I have children with Malfoy? I left Harry for Malfoy? Is that what happened? Was I— could I have been tricked? Was I forced into it? Did you look into everything, Ron? Tell me the truth!” she shouted.  


Molly unexpected stood and glared at Ginny.  


“Ginny, _sit_!” Her mum pointed to the seat Ginny had vacated. “We’ll get nowhere if you keep carrying on. And drink your tea.”  


“Mum!” she yelled, horrified.  


“You’ve lost your memories,” Molly chided, turning and grabbing the potions the Healer had given her. “And you’re upset, yes, I can see that. But Draco is your husband and the father of your children. And you love him. You’re only insulting him by asking if he— if he forced you into the marriage.”  


Ginny gaped in disbelief. The feeling in her legs seemed to have left her and she blindly grabbed the chair so that she wouldn’t collapse to the floor. Ron groaned into his hands, scrubbed his face roughly, and then looked between the two women.  


“Mum’s rather fond of Malfoy,” Ron admitted.  


“This is twisted,” Ginny muttered, running her hands through her tangled hair. “He’s Draco to you, mum? You both hate him! You hate his family! You hate everything he stands for! He tried to turn Harry in to Voldemort during the Final Battle! Have you all forgotten?”  


They both appeared alarmed by her outburst. She felt like she was going absolutely bonkers. How were they so calm? How had they accepted this? How could she not have been fooled into a marriage with Malfoy?  


“Show me my children!” she ordered. “I need to see them.”  


Ron blinked owlishly but her mother left the kitchen quickly and returned with a framed photo that Ginny didn’t notice earlier. Molly handed it to her cautiously, face down, as if she feared Ginny would also insult the children.  


Ginny snatched the frame out of her hands but froze before she could look at the photograph. Her hands shook. Ron reached over and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it sympathetically.  


“It’s alright, Gin,” he told her. “You love them and they love you, very much—”  


“Yes, I know I _love_ them. Apparently, I love everything about my life,” she snapped. “But I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember my own children.”  


Tears clouded her vision, threatening to spill down her cheeks, yet she willed herself not to cry. With a deep breath, Ginny turned the frame over and gazed at the photo. Three young children stood in the front yard of the Burrow, her father posed in the middle. Her eyes hungrily took in their appearances. The oldest had to be the tall boy proudly clutching a broom by his side. He had her vibrant red hair, which startled Ginny as she studied him. Indeed, he was a Malfoy, holding himself in a way that reminded her of Draco Malfoy during their Hogwarts’ days. But the Weasley trademark hair spoke volumes of his full identity. The youngest was a girl in Arthur’s arms. Her resemblance to Ginny was striking as she switched between waving happily and squeezing her grandfather’s neck affectionately. Another boy smiled up at her, actively digging a hole next to the chicken coop. He looked like a miniature Malfoy.  


Ginny brought the photo to her chest.  


“Do you remember them?” Ron asked.  


“They’re her children,” Molly interjected. “Of course she does. Don’t you?”  


Ginny shook her head. In the photo, the children looked happy and healthy and, undoubtedly, bore a resemblance to her. She had children with Draco Malfoy. She was married to him. And the children were cared for. Her parents loved and watched over them. Her mum favored Malfoy.  


She was in an alternate universe. She had to be… it had to be…  


“If he’s my husband,” she said, choking back tears. “why isn’t he here? Where is he? Doesn’t he care that I’ve— that I was— about the accident?”  


Molly fluttered about at her words, coming over and wrapping her in a huge hug. Ginny deflated at her mum’s comfort, resting her head against her mum’s shoulder and squeezing her eyes shut.  


“He’s on an overseas business trip,” her mum cooed. “He left just yesterday. I’ve been in contact with him, as has St. Mungo’s, and he’s on his way back now. The states have different regulations on portkeys. I fear he’s stuck overnight, at least, until the supervisor approves of the new portkey.”  


Draco Malfoy was rushing home to see her. Was he afraid for her? Did he know about her memory loss? Or was the accident a hassle for him? And where were her kids?  


“With Hermione,” Ron supplied.  


She realized she had mumbled miserably into her mum’s shirt and Ron had heard.  


“I dropped them off with Hermione once I heard,” her mum continued. “They’re all worried sick, of course, and they’ll be pleased to see you safe tomorrow. Lyra was particularly upset.”  


“Lyra?” Ginny asked, leaning back.  


“Your daughter,” her mum told her, cupping her cheek and smiling sadly.  


~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~  


She sat in front of her bedroom window, wrapped in her childhood comforter. It smelt of cinnamon and pies and honey. Disgustingly sweet. No, it wasn’t. Flashbacks from her childhood appeared in her head as she breathed in the scent. But a different aroma lingered. Ron had told her, jokingly, that their bedrooms had been transformed for the children’s sleepovers. Rose had taken a preference to Ginny’s old room.  


Stars shone bright from the heavens and Ginny watched them, her stomach still churning.  


Even seeing her father, who returned home disorganised and concerned, hadn’t saved her sinking heart. He had been immensely worried, but reassured her that she was very happy in her life. Or seemed to be. She drank her potions and hoped and prayed and wished that everything would come back to her…  


She had stood in front of the mirror, once alone for the first time. Everyone insisted that she loved her life, throwing facts and reminders as assurance, but she wouldn’t feel the same way until she had definitive proof. Throughout the day, she had avoided mirrors, intentionally or otherwise. Minutes flew by and, come morning, Draco Malfoy would arrive to check on his wife.  


His wife, Ginny Weasley.  


His wife, who wasn’t wearing her ring.  


Merlin, how was her current life real? How had she consciously made her choice?  


Old photographs had been tacked onto the frame of the mirror and she had, cowardly, looked at them first. Some were of her with the twins, and others of her with Neville and Luna. Upon seeing Luna, her heart stirred briefly, the sensation vanishing once she contemplated on it. One was of her standing, arm in arm, with Ron, Hermione, and Harry.  


What had happened?  


When she had finally regarded her reflection, she was pleasantly taken aback. Not much had changed. Her hair was shorter than she would normally allow, brushing below her shoulders. The colour had morphed into a lighter shade of red with gold and orange blending in. Wrinkles had formed by her mouth and at the corners of her eyes, just like Ron. She had more freckles adorning her skin.  


Ginny had been oddly disappointed, though she had supposed it was fortunate that, in ten years, she hadn’t changed much.  


She hardly budged from her window seat. Ron had left to help Hermione with the children. Her children. After a lot of fussing and hugs, her parents retired to bed. Concern had lingered in her father’s eyes. Time ticked on. The sun would rise in a few short hours. And Draco Malfoy would come for the wife who didn’t remember him.


	2. Day Two

_“You got papers? Bloody divorce papers?”_

_“Oh, don’t start this.”_

_“Are you serious? Do you know how mad this is? You can’t just pretend these papers aren’t here, that they aren’t real!”_

_“Don’t pretend you care now, you’re fooling no one-”_

Voices woke her. Ginny jolted awake, confused as her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. A pulse went through her head and the memory of everything that happened came back to her. She was at the Burrow because she had an accident the day before. Lifting her hand, she saw the same tan line on her ring finger that she dreaded. She had hoped it would be gone, that this was all a dream, that she had an overactive imagination.  


She was wrong.  


The sun was hot on her face and Ginny stood, stretching as her muscles ached. She had never moved to the bed the night before. Outside, the stars had been too tempting and promising. Her red cheek was just a reminder that she had fallen asleep against the window pane.  


Glancing in the mirror, Ginny ran her fingers through her hair. From the tone of the voices below she had a feeling she knew who had finally arrived. Her stomach twisted and she felt ill. Malfoy was here. Rubbing at her cheek, hoping the red mark would go away, Ginny sat at the end of her bed with a huff. She had been dreaming and remembered something. Something about papers. Was that a memory?  


Likely not.  


The stairs outside her room creaked and there was a soft, familiar knock at her bedroom door. Was Malfoy out there too? Was he curious over her? She hated the feeling that came to her, the dread, the idea that she had chosen Malfoy over Harry. All she wanted was to find Harry right now, for him to be the one outside her door, for him to be the one frantically racing to get to her.  


What if Malfoy loved her? What if he truly, madly, deeply was in love with her? She didn’t love him, she wasn’t sure she ever could… but she must have felt something for him. Ginny groaned into her hands and took another deep breath. The knocking came again and then her mum’s voice.  


Ginny got to her feet and opened the bedroom door a bit, just enough to peer out. Her mum stood there, eyes wide and curious and, bloody hell, extremely hopeful. She opened the door wider and waved her mum in. Immediately a warm hand pressed against her cheek.  


“How are you feeling, dear?”  


“Wretched,” she responded, sighing.  


“No luck then?” her mum asked, smoothing down her wild hair.  


Miserably, she shook her head no.  


“Well, then, let’s get some breakfast in you.”  


Her mum smiled up at her for a long second before turning to lead the way to the kitchen. Ginny hesitated and her mother must have felt it for she paused and turned around.  


“What is it, dear?”  


“He’s here, isn’t he? Malfoy?”  


Her mum’s face pinched a bit but she nodded. Ginny glumly sat back down on the bed.  


“I can’t do this.”  


“Ginny, dear,” her mum started.  


“This isn’t my life. I didn’t choose this life.”  


“Dear-”  


“Send him home, tell him I’m ill, tell him-”  


“What do you think is going to happen, Ginny?” her mum asked harshly.  


Ginny looked up in surprise.  


“You think your children aren’t going to ask for you? That Draco will be fine with his wife staying hidden away at her parents’ house till her memory comes back? It isn’t fair for you, certainly not, but it’s not fair to your family either.” She took a deep breath. “I think it best if you head home with Draco. It might help stir your memory.”  


“Mum!” Ginny cried out. “I don’t know him, not at all. It’s not like I married Neville or Dean or-or Lee Jordan! I’m married to a Malfoy. Someone I despise-”  


“And you made that choice,” she responded shortly. “I’ll hear nothing of it, Ginny, I really won’t. He’s worried sick over you, you should know.”  


Ginny went to say something else but her mum approached her and cupped her face. Her severe features relaxed as she stared down at Ginny.  


“I would never push you if I didn’t believe it best,” her mum told her. “You’ll never get your memory back hiding away from your life at your childhood home. Think of your children.”  


“I don’t know them,” Ginny whispered pitifully.  


“Then get to know them again, until your memory returns. The Healer said a week at the most. You’ve already got one day down.”  


She smiled then hesitated.  


“What?” asked Ginny.  


“You should think of Draco, too,” her mum said softly. “Whether you like it right now or not, you did marry him and choose to love him. And if you do anything rash now you’ll likely regret it once your memory returns.”  


Her mum released her hold on Ginny’s face and walked towards the door. Ginny wasn’t able to move. Before her mum left completely, she stuck her head in and, with a tiny frown, spoke.  


“I’ll send him up here in a moment, so you both can have some privacy.”  


When the door clicked shut, Ginny bolted to life. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do but look miserable on the bed, as an almost forty-year-old woman, was not her best option. Looking in the mirror again, she pinched some color into her cheeks and smoothed down her hair for the third time. Sleeping against the window had certainly been the worst decision for her hair. Looking down, Ginny saw she had never changed from her clothes from yesterday. They were wrinkled and dirty. She found her wand on the floor and did a quick cleaning spell. The clothes didn’t stink any longer but they were still wrinkled. Before she could try to think of a wrinkle spell there was a soft tap, tap on her door.  


Ginny’s head snapped towards it, her jaw dropping. Nervousness filled her and she scolded herself. It was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The snot nose child who appreciated taunting his school mates to tears. That was her husband, the man she decided to have father her children.  


But he wasn’t likely to be a seventeen-year-old boy waiting outside her door. He was nearing forty also. He’d likely have wrinkles too. And he’d know more about her, and their past, then she did. Would he hold it over her head? Mock her? Ignore her completely till she remembered?  


“Can you stop staring at the door and open it already?”  


Her mouth went dry. His voice was the same as she remembered, low and sarcastic. She could almost hear the smirk in his words. Ginny braced herself and stepped forward, turning the handle and pulling open the door.  


Draco Malfoy stared at her with a single eyebrow raised, leaning against the wall. She had hoped for something, a flash of recognition, as she studied him but found nothing. Surprisingly, he hadn’t aged much since Hogwarts. He was taller than she remembered and his frame was lankier than she thought it had been at Hogwarts. But his hair was the same cut it had been at school, short and white blonde. On first glance she couldn’t find any wrinkles either. But Malfoy did look… tired and rushed. Bags were under his light eyes, looking severe against his pale skin, and his hair was disheveled.  


Ginny let out a breath and his other eyebrow shot up.  


His eyes flickered over her face in return, searching for something also, and he seemed almost relieved to not have found it.  
This was the man she married. She had to admit a shot of sympathy raced through her at the sight of his tiredness. Were the bags under his eyes from worrying over his wife? Was his untidy appearance the cause of rushing across thousands of miles via portkey to get back home to her? Ginny always remembered Malfoy being a stickler about his appearance at school, to the point that he seemed more than a touch vain, so this meant something, right?  


“May I enter?” he asked her and his words slid over her skin, raising the hair on her arms.  


Ginny breathed in through her nose and willed herself to not slam the door shut in his face. An odd mix of emotions were fighting to be made known; disgust, curiosity, fear, excitement… and somewhere, oddly, was relief. He wasn’t the boy she remembered so, perhaps, there was something she could cling onto about him that would explain how this all happened.  


Nodding, more to herself than him, Ginny stepped backwards into her room. She turned and walked to the window, wrapping her arms protectively around herself. His movements were quiet but echoed in the silence of her room. Malfoy stepped in behind her, shut the door, and waited. If she closed her eyes and listened hard enough, she was sure she’d hear his light breathing. But she couldn’t close her eyes and ignore him, as much as she wished she could. He was here, for her.  


After a long pause, Ginny turned around to face him. He was further in her room than she had thought. Leaning against one of the bedposts, Malfoy seemed oddly comfortable surrounded by the pink of her room. When did he get comfortable in her childhood bedroom? She didn’t like it. It felt wrong and out of place… yet here he was, watching her, waiting.  


What was he waiting for?  


Ginny licked her lips as she thought of something to say. Why wasn’t he speaking? He had rushed home to see his wife to say nothing? She didn’t like that she couldn’t get a feel of him as they watched each other.  


“The Americans are much stricter with their portkey regulations than here,” he suddenly said, startling her.  


Her eyebrows furrowed as he spoke casually.  


“And the partners weren’t pleased with my sudden departure,” Malfoy continued, staring at her. “But you know I arrived as soon I could, don’t you?”  


Ginny wondered if he could hear her heartbeat speeding up. Malfoy was still watching her, studying her, and she realized why as his eyes traced her face. He could read her. Bloody hell, he knew her well enough to read the emotions on her face. She tried to keep her face blank but couldn’t. Honestly, she had never done well at hiding her feelings. When she was mad, everyone around her knew. If she was happy, it shined clearly from her. Her sadness seemed to drain the room around her. It was something her parents had teased her about when she was younger, something her friends often told her at school, something that Harry had mentioned he loved about her.  


Malfoy was waiting for a response.  


She opened her mouth then shut it. What was she supposed to say to this stranger? He spoke to her as though picking up from a previous conversation they had. And, perhaps, he was. But she didn’t remember the conversation and he didn’t seem inclined to fill her in on what she forgot.  


Abruptly, Malfoy pushed off the bedpost and approached her. Ginny held her ground despite her desire to turn and run. Merlin, he was tall. He advanced on her with ease or, maybe, he was nervous too but he just didn’t show it. She wished she could read him. By the time he stopped he was close enough to her that she had to lift her chin to maintain eye contact.  


She could smell his scent.  


Mint.  


A flash of a memory, of him brushing her hair from her face, of her sighing in content, of his smile, came to her and she fought the urge to push him away. If he noticed her internal struggle, he didn’t mention it.  


“How do you feel?”  


His voice was different this time, a touch gentler, seeking, searching.  


It sounded weird coming from him.  


Ginny watched as his eyes found the spot on her head, still a little tender, where the Bludger had scrapped her. She wondered how he knew where it was. The Healer had done a wonderful job fixing her up, enough that she barely noticed the mark herself.  


“Like someone is pulling a horrid prank on me,” she answered, unable to check her words.  


Malfoy didn’t seem offended. Or perhaps he was and she couldn’t tell. His lips pulled back and Ginny didn’t know if he was fighting a grin or a frown.  


“Your mother wants you to come home with me,” he told her and she blanched.  


He waited for her to collect herself from the sudden panic of the idea. Her mum had already suggested this but hearing it come from Malfoy made it much more real. It was ridiculous really; she had married this man. There was an intimacy coming from Malfoy that was both revolting and very curious. There was no denying he knew her.  


She stared up in his eyes, trying to find some sort of emotion to cling onto. There was nothing. Ginny had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.  


“Yes, I know,” she responded.  


Malfoy’s arm twitched and she caught the movement. Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked back up to catch his eyes. He stepped away from her, looking away.  


“If you’d like to stay here until your memory returns,” he began then stopped.  


His hand flexed by his side before making a fist.  


“I can watch the children,” Malfoy told her. “I’ll tell them you took holiday. They won’t be happy, I’m sure, but they’ll be fine without... they’ll be fine. If you’re not ready to return home, then it’s not necessary.”  


Ginny frowned, wondering at his game. Malfoy had gone from strangely casual to awkward and serious. It left her feeling lopsided. This certainly wasn’t the schoolboy she remembered. The edge, the hatred he had always carried at Hogwarts was no longer there. He spoke to her with ease and it unnerved her even though it shouldn’t. What had she expected? They were married.  
Malfoy wasn’t demanding she leave with him. If anything, he seemed to want her to stay at the Burrow. But why? She was his wife. Shouldn’t he want her home with him?  


Her bare ring finger felt heavy again and she cupped her hands in front of her.  


“Your trip overseas?” Ginny started to ask then stopped.  


She knew nothing of what Malfoy did for a living. But his trip overseas for business was the only thing Ginny really knew about him at the moment. So she attached herself to that fact, hoping it would generate conversation, that it would put her on an equal playing field with him.  


Ginny knew it was pointless but she couldn’t help but try.  


“The partners have been made aware of the circumstances,” he told her softly. “It might be best for you to stay here, where it’s more relaxed, much quieter…”  


His eyes were still searching hers as he spoke.  


“No,” she decided suddenly, the one word solid. “I’ll come with you. It might help my memories come back faster.”  


He looked surprised at her choice but nodded slowly. Shock went through her. Had she just agreed to go home with him? They stood in the room, silent and uncomfortable after her decision.  


“Let’s not waste time then,” Malfoy said, nodding at her before turning and leaving.  


Pausing at her bedroom door, he looked as if he wanted to turn back, as if he wanted to look at her. Instead he opened the door and left.  


She stood alone, staring at where he had stood. What had just happened? She had the choice to stay here and she opted not to? Was she mad? Had that Bludger done more damage than she thought? But… if Ginny was being honest with herself, she was a bit curious. Curious about everything, really. And she couldn’t help but want to see this life she had created for herself. She wasn’t being honest with herself, however. Ginny groaned before heading out after him.  


~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~  


Her parents were waiting in the kitchen, curiously quiet. Munching on toast, her father stood and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. She saw Malfoy and her father share a look, one she didn’t understand, before her mum distracted her by shoving a plate of toast in her hands.  


“You should eat, dear,” she said anxiously, peering behind Ginny at Malfoy.  


It made Ginny’s head swirl, the idea that Malfoy had a very solid relationship with her parents. Bloody hell, they could speak by sharing looks! Who would have ever thought?  


“I’m not hungry,” replied Ginny, placing the toast on the table by her father, knowing he’d want to eat it.  


With a happy sound, he patted her hand in appreciation and turned his attention back to the newspaper that lay open on the table. Her mum, however, was too anxious to do anything else.  


“Draco, dear, are you hungry?”  


Ginny looked over at Malfoy and perked her eyebrows. He pressed his lips together but shook his head no.  


“I believe it’s best if we get your daughter back to the house,” he told her parents.  


Her mum squeaked in astonishment, pressing her hands together in between her breasts. Putting the paper down again, her father turned in his chair and stared at the pair.  


“You’re going home, Gin?” her father asked, surprised.  


“You’re going to go back home!” cried her mum. “That’s lovely, dear, I was really worried you’d decide to stay here.”  


“Thanks, mum,” Ginny dryly replied.  


Malfoy’s lips twitched into a smile but only for the briefest of a second. Ginny caught herself staring, so surprised by the short-lived transformation that she didn’t notice her mum approached the pair until she was on them.  


“Oh, you know what I mean,” her mum said, shushing her before turning her attention to Malfoy. “Apparition might be best, Draco, I’m afraid she might not do well with Floo.”  


“Of course,” he responded politely.  


“The Healer said her head would be sensitive for a bit,” her mum huffed as she said this. “She should’ve been rushed to St. Mungo’s right away but the mediwitch took too long to get to her on the field and they believe the-”  


“ _Mum_ ,” Ginny hissed, face heating in embarrassment.  


“-time lost affected her negatively,” her mum continued, turning a glaring eye on her daughter. “I need to make sure Draco knows, Ginny, he’ll be the one taking care of you.”  


Ginny couldn’t even look at Malfoy in fear of the smirk on his face.  


“I’m fine, mum, really.”  


Her mum tutted.  


“You’ve lost your memory, dear, you are not fine,” she replied.  


Ginny frowned at her mum but couldn’t deny that she spoke the truth. She wasn’t fine. Biting her lip, Ginny glanced at Malfoy. Surprisingly, there was no smirk on his lips. He was paying mind to everything her mum was saying. Nodding at Malfoy, her mum turned and went back to the sink to continue cleaning the dishes. Looking away, she caught her father’s eyes. Her dad offered a sympathetic smile and stood from the table.  


“Say goodbye to your mum, Gin,” he told her gently.  


She wanted to roll her eyes but felt it was too childish. Walking up to her mum, Ginny wrapped her arms around her from behind. Her mum relaxed under her touch and rubbed her arms with soapy hands.  


“This will all fix itself,” her mum said as a way of goodbye.  


Ginny nodded before turning back to the two men in the kitchen. Desperately, Ginny wanted Malfoy to stand out like a sore thumb in the Burrow. But, honestly, he simply didn’t. Even in his fancy, expensive robes, with his slight smirk marring his face, it was clear Malfoy was comfortable here. And the Burrow, and the residents inside of it, were comfortable with him.  


Coming up, her father hugged her close to his side and led the way out of the kitchen. Malfoy stepped to the side to allow them to pass.  


“I’ll walk you out,” her father said softly before pressing a kiss gently to the side of her head.  


She closed her eyes, enjoying the familiar feeling of his kind kiss, and smiled up at him. A Christmas tree twinkled at her, presents placed gently beneath it. In her rush last night she hadn’t noticed the Christmas decorations. Ginny frowned but ignored the lost sensation that washed over her as they headed out of the Burrow.  


“Your mum means best,” said her father once they were outside. “You know that.”  


“Of course I do,” Ginny sighed. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”  


He laughed at her words. Ginny breathed in the cold, bitter air as the reality of the situation set in. The chilly air woke her up, made her eyes open wider and her body straighten. The chickens were out of their coop but they didn’t seem happy about it. She eyed them as her father led her to the edge of the property. Behind them, Malfoy followed quietly.  


“Owl if you need to,” her father told her in a whisper in her ear. “Your room is always here, ready for you.”  


As she smiled gratefully at him she wanted to cry again. Her emotions were all over the place. Had to be the head injury because in day to day life Ginny never cried. She hated it. But now all she wanted to do was curl in a ball in her bedroom and sob.  


Her father stepped away from her and Malfoy stepped in. Malfoy went to shake her father’s hand, a smile on his face that softened his features, but her father embraced him instead. Ginny watched, shocked, as Malfoy allowed the contact. They spoke to each other quietly before her father stepped away. He waved at her once and started heading back to the Burrow.  


It was just her and Malfoy. Again. Ginny frowned and rubbed her arms. She hadn’t worn a robe or jacket and it was more than a little chilly out. Malfoy observed her before stepping forward. When she tensed up, he ignored it.  


“Best to get you back home before you get hypothermia and end up back at St. Mungo’s,” he said before taking ahold of her arm.  


Ginny jumped at the contact, his warm hand on her cool skin, and glanced up at him. Malfoy was pointedly ignoring her. The hair on her arms stood and Ginny’s breath hitched. He looked down at her then and then everything seemed to bend and twist and it was hard to breathe and then, all at once, it ended.  


~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~  


He made sure she was steady on her feet before releasing her. Everything had spun in front of her after the apparition so she, for once, was grateful for his presence. If not, she likely would have crumpled on the ground. Malfoy headed away from her at a brisk pace but Ginny took her time.  


She didn’t have a choice really.  


Perhaps it had been ignorant to assume but Ginny had thought every time she was told to go home that her family was referring to Malfoy Manor. When she thought of home with Malfoy she pictured the large, looming manor with absolutely no heat or friendliness to it. The yard would be endless and exquisite and absolutely dull and the inside of the manor would be filled with things she shouldn’t touch with her dirty fingers.  


Ginny was wrong.  


The house was huge but not nearly the size of a manor. It was built with red brick and had white shutters that framed the great windows. Before winter had arrived, it was clear there had been an enormous garden in the front of the house; now the ground was covered to prepare for the upcoming season. Several toys littered the yard also, evidence of life inside.  


Ginny followed Malfoy slowly, drinking in everything around her. This was her life. It wasn’t just Malfoy’s life, it was hers too. And she could see her touches on everything. When she entered the house through the white, wooden front door, it opened to a foyer that sparkled with gold highlights and a warm wooden décor. She hated herself for loving it.  


Malfoy had already disappeared but Ginny didn’t mind. This was her house. This was where she was raising a family. A large painting hung on the wall, something that Malfoy must have wanted, and she wandered over to it. It was her family. The boys, much younger than they were now, stared dutifully from the painting, seated in chairs to the side. Ginny stood beside Malfoy and held a baby on her hip. A small smile was curled on her lips in the painting. She did look happy… also a tad too dressed up, wearing robes she could never afford. Malfoy was beside her, looking immensely proud. They were frozen in the moment.  


How odd.  


Ginny continued staring at it until she heard footsteps. Looking away, she spotted Malfoy walking down the stairs to her. He met her eyes and held out his arm, leading her eyes to a room she hadn’t noticed to the right.  


_His study._  


She frowned, wondering how she remembered that and if she was right. Slowly, narrowing her eyes at him almost out of habit, Ginny made her way to where he pointed. And she was right. The study was huge, the walls all bookshelves filled to the brim, with a lovely dark desk placed in the middle. The fireplace was lit and warming the room already.  


She hesitated.  


“I…” she stopped.  


Malfoy perked an eyebrow but waited. A wave of emotions hit her. This was real. She lived here and she had children here and Malfoy was her husband and this wasn’t a trick, certainly not. There was a bloody painting hanging in the other room of her, happy, with her husband and children. And she shouldn’t be upset about this, not if she was truly content, because it seemed like a wonderful life from the outside but yet… it was with Draco Malfoy.  


“I need a minute,” Ginny lamely said. “I need to bathe or… I just need a minute. I need, I just need-”  


His eyes darted over her face, looking for something again, before he nodded, silencing her.  


“Of course,” he responded. “I wasn’t thinking.”  


Malfoy paused, an emotion she couldn’t pinpoint coloring his face. Then it disappeared.  


“Shower, change, I’ll have Yolly bring a snack and tea to the study when you’re ready.”  


They stared at each other and she realized he was waiting for her to leave. She opened her mouth, shut it, and turned to leave but stopped. Ginny had no idea what she was doing. Malfoy cleared his throat behind her.  


“I shouldn’t have assumed,” said Malfoy, a light pink staining his cheeks. “Do you want me to show you to the bedroom?”  


Ginny turned, frowning. She had never heard him genuinely apologetic. At school, his apologies had always seemed fake and done to please the professors.  


“No, I’ve got it, thanks,” she said, rather loudly.  


She stared him down again and his lips twitched before he nodded. He walked into the study and the door swung shut behind him with no urging on his part. Ginny stared before turning on her heel. Even though she had no idea what was where in this house… she had a feeling her body did. Somehow she had known that was his study. And, as crazy as it might sound, she knew she could find the bedroom.  
There was a large staircase that went from the foyer and led up. Ginny took it, glad that she didn’t have Malfoy’s eyes on her, and stared at the various photographs framed on the wall. It was of the children, every single picture. Most of them were baby pictures, muggle style. They didn’t move. She almost wished they did, so she could see her children in action.  


Ginny jumped a step and continued up then stopped. Why had she jumped that step? She went back down to it and toed it with her left foot. It squeaked, loudly. In the large foyer, the sound echoed. 

Grimacing, Ginny turned and ran the rest of the way up the stairs.  


_No, no, not this room, no,_ Ginny thought as her fingers ran along the wall. Finally the corridor ended with a single door. This was it, she knew. Taking a breath, Ginny pushed open the door and stepped in. The bedroom wasn’t as large as she thought it would be but it was most certainly hers. Or theirs, rather. A silky, feminine robe hung from an open closet door. She touched it, felt the rich fabric, and turned away. 

Everything was organized and looked expensive and… it all looked so lovely and homey. The bed was large, covered in a dark green comforter. Above the bed was a large, strange painting Ginny had never seen before.  


A vanity mirror and desk were set up against the far wall and Ginny walked over to it. Dozens of different shaped bottles sat scattered on it, most unlabeled. Did she really use any of this stuff? She picked up a random bottle and pulled off the top. The smell of roses drifted from it and she closed her eyes.  


_“This is spoiling me a bit.”_  


_“Yes but you like it, don’t you?”_  


She closed the bottle and turned away. There had to be a loo around here somewhere because she was beginning to feel feverish and sweaty and ill again. Ginny rushed in the direction of what she hoped was the bathroom, and she was right, of course. She lifted the toilet seat quickly. Falling to her knees, she stared down in the water and willed herself to get sick. Nothing came up.  


~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~  


The hot water from the shower helped. It was everything else that bothered her. Her naked body was a different landscape then she remembered. Stretch marks covered her stomach and her fingers ran the course of them. Ginny couldn’t help but feel disappointment at the lack of memory that should’ve come with the stretch marks. Had she liked being pregnant? Was she very afraid during the first pregnancy? Were there any complications? Did Malfoy run his fingers over her stretch marks like she did now? Her breasts were different too, though she wasn’t too surprised by that. It was clear she had breastfed the children. A sense of loss came with the realization. Breastfeeding was something Hermione had loved doing with Rose. It was a connection only mother and child could have. And Ginny didn’t remember it.  


She let herself cry in the shower as the hot water cleansed her.  


It was also odd how her body seemed to know what to do without her telling it. Ginny knew exactly what bottles to use for her hair even though she had never seen them before. There were several different containers of body wash and Ginny automatically grabbed the one that smelled of coconut and mango, her favorite. When she stepped out, she grabbed the fluffy, blue towel folded neatly on the cupboard without thought and dried herself off with it. Waving her wand she cleared the steam off the mirror and stared.  


How many times had she done this? How long had they lived in this house? She gripped the edges of the sink and fought the urge to scream. Why hadn’t she been paying attention on the Quidditch field? Why hadn’t she noticed the Bludger coming?  


It was all very frustrating and she had no answers, not yet.  


Her hands moved and opened a bottle of cream that she knew to get only a dab of before applying to her face. It made her skin tingle and she found she rather liked it. Then she grabbed a hairbrush and ran it through her hair in three, long swipes. Ginny left the bathroom and headed to the closet. Her nose wrinkled in surprise. There were more expensive dress robes in there than she had ever seen before.  


Where were her regular clothes?  


She pressed her lips together and moved to the large dresser in the room. Yanking open the doors, she shuffled through the clothes that were folded at the bottom and came up with an old jumper her mum had made for Christmas, though she couldn’t recall what year by looking at it, and a ratty old shirt with paint stains on it. A pair of black pants were easier to find, crumpled on the floor of the closet. Ginny dressed quickly and felt instantly better.  


Once deciding she had no choice but to go see Malfoy, Ginny headed out of the bedroom. Her feet led her easily back to the front of the house and she hesitated between knocking and just entering the study when the door swung open. Malfoy was perched by the large window in the room and turned to look at her, clearly amused when she stepped in.  


“You really must stop staring at the doors while making decisions,” he told her, sliding off the window sill.  


He looked over her and something, a thought or feeling, flashed across his face.  


“What?” she asked, crossing her arms.  


Malfoy didn’t respond. Instead he took a seat in a large lounge chair by the fire. Another one was across from him and a tiny table sat in between them. A pot of tea and a plate of finger food were on the table. Her stomach urged her forward and, with an inward sigh, she took the seat opposite Malfoy. He didn’t say anything and she didn’t want to start the conversation so she poured herself a cup of tea, hesitated on the thought of pouring Malfoy one, decided against it, grabbed a sandwich and shoved it eagerly in her mouth, then decided that maybe she should have poured him a cup, and was about to when she was startled by a mewling at her feet.  


She glanced down and a round, black cat was at her feet, begging to come up. A familiar black cat.  


“Witherwings!” Ginny cried, warmth spreading through her.  


The cat purred in response. Witherwings was just a kitten in her mind but now he had grown rather large and seemed content to settle in her lap. Ginny looked up at Malfoy in amazement.  


“You have my cat!” she said, hardly keeping the joy from her words.  


Finally, something familiar and true in this house.  


Malfoy glanced at her, then Witherwings, annoyed.  


“I have several of your cats,” he told her. “One is likely in Gray’s room, the other probably out in the garden. Can’t get the bugger in here for the life of me. I even sent Yolly out for her, Lyra was going mad with worry, but the cat won’t come in.”  


Ginny stared at him. They had a family of cats together.  


“This is all very odd to me, Malfoy.”  


The words slipped from her mouth before she could help it. He met her eyes and held them. Flushing, Ginny shifted Witherwings in her lap, for lack of anything better to do.  


“Yeah.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “It’s odd for me too. But I’m sure much more for you.”  


An acceptance of the strange situation eased the peculiar feeling in Ginny’s stomach. She wanted to hate Malfoy, she really did, but he simply wasn’t the person she kept thinking of. It was very clear to her now that he had changed, at least in a few ways. And her parents liked him, possibly even loved him. Ron even vouched for him.  


It didn’t mean she had to be happy with the situation. But she heard her mum’s voice in her head as she stared at the unfamiliar man across from her.  


_“You should think of Draco, too… if you do anything rash now you’ll likely regret it once your memory returns.”_  


He looked ready to speak but she stopped him.  


“I don’t remember the-my or, rather, our children.”  


She hated saying it. Her cheeks flushed an angry red and she couldn’t hold his eyes. He shifted in his seat and, after he was silent for too long, she looked at him. Malfoy’s eyes were wide and he looked unsure.  


“At all?” he finally managed.  


Ginny gave a one shoulder shrug.  


“What do you remember?” Malfoy asked hesitantly. “Your mother said… she made it seem…”  


“Like what?” Ginny wanted to ring her mum’s neck already.  


“She made it seem as though your memory was simply coming and going, that you just needed to be watched over,” he said, struggling to put the words together. “I hadn’t realized the scale of this. Even the Healer I spoke to was optimistic of your condition.”  


“Well my _condition_ is not remembering any of this,” she replied hotly.  


Waving her hands, she indicated the space between them.  


“You really do hate me then,” Malfoy said, searching.  


The way he spoke the words sent a jolt of surprise through Ginny. Had her distain for him really been that obvious? Ginny wanted to deny the statement but couldn’t. She held his eyes instead. A flash of emotion went across his face, hurt and perhaps relief, and she instantly felt horrible.  


“I just don’t understand any of it,” she told him honestly.  


Witherwings meowed softly in her lap, stretching and poking her with his sharp claws. She grimaced and pulled his nails from her leg.  


“I don’t know how this happened between us,” Ginny continued.  


Malfoy watched her intensely.  


“Your condition will likely diminish soon,” Malfoy responded briskly. “Your memory will return and this will all seem like a bad nightmare.”  
Ginny’s eyebrows rose.  


“Yes but until then,” Ginny cut in. “I still don’t remember the last ten years.”  


“Ten years?” Malfoy’s voice rose in surprise. “You don’t remember meeting me after Hogwarts?”  


“ _No_ , Malfoy, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t remember any of this.”  


Malfoy’s face had drained of color. Or maybe he was always that pale. His hands were fidgeting on his knees as his mind raced. Ginny felt rather sorry for him. If the situation was reversed, if he had lost his memory and she were his wife and had to deal with a man who wanted nothing to do with her, she’d feel horrid. Without a second thought, Ginny reached across and grabbed onto his hand.  


He jumped at her touch but she ignored it, instead squeezing his hand to show… well, she wasn’t sure what. Support? She released her hold of his hand quickly and leaned back in her seat.  


“I’ve handled this horribly,” he told her, voice strained. “At the Burrow, I had… I hadn’t been sure, I thought, perhaps… I had thought this wasn’t as serious as it was.”  


She took a deep breath and nodded. There were more thoughts flying through his head than he was expressing but Ginny didn’t know what he was thinking or trying to say. She simply didn’t know the man in front of her.  


“A bit serious,” she told him, trying to lighten the mood.  


Malfoy stared at her hard. He was all sharp angles, Ginny realized as she looked back at him. She didn’t remember ever really studying Malfoy at Hogwarts, not like this. When Malfoy didn’t respond, she wondered if he were going to attempt to drown himself in his guilt, or whatever he was feeling. He hadn’t been too despicable at the Burrow. She tried again.  


“Tell me about the children? Are they… Merlin, are they coming here today?”  


His right hand stroked the arm of the chair as he responded.  


“No, I spoke with your brother and they’ll stay at his house another night.” Malfoy paused. “By then, perhaps, your memory will return.”  


“Perhaps,” Ginny allowed. “Tell me about them.”  


Ginny thought of the stretchmarks on her stomach and her fingers curled in Witherwing’s fur, fighting her desire to trace the marks of pregnancy again.  


Malfoy leaned into his seat with a soft sigh. When he spoke, he didn’t look at her. It was as if he were telling someone else entirely about his children. Perhaps it was weird to look at his wife and describe their children to her.  


“Orion is the oldest,” he told her. “He is… well, he certainly has your personality. A spit fire and magnificent on the broom, which I take most credit for.“  


A smile darted across Ginny’s face at his words. She could envision the red-haired boy from the photograph, proudly holding the broom beside him.  


“Gray is-”  


“Gray? I named my child after a color?” Ginny asked, a bit horrified.  


One corner of Malfoy’s lip curled upwards.  


“His name is Rigel but you nicknamed him Gray when he was younger,” Malfoy explained. “He’s far too serious for his age and rather brilliant; I’d bet he’s read almost all the books in the library. Also a bit of a mother’s boy. He clings to you.”  


Ginny tried to picture the boy who looked exactly as Malfoy did when he was younger pulling at her shirt, desperate for her attention. It was hard though. These children were just characters in a story to her. They held no substance except for the photographs of them she saw.  


“Lyra is…” Malfoy stared off into the distance, trying to find the words to describe the young girl. “Lyra is Lyra. Silly and snarky at the same time. Mischievous. Curious.”  


They fell into silence and Ginny frowned down at Witherwings. What if she never remembered? How could she forget her own children? Her husband?  


She glanced up at Malfoy at that. He was staring out the window, lost in his own world. Did they even get on well? Ginny couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t imagine them laughing together over a meal or him comforting her when she was upset or her caring for him when he was sick.  


“Why am I not wearing my wedding ring?” Ginny blurted out.  


It had been bothering her since St. Mungo’s. Why was her ring finger bare but she was married?  


Her words received Malfoy’s full attention. His head snapped from the direction of the window to her so fast she feared for his neck.  


“I mean,” she continued awkwardly. “Did I lose it? Or was it from when I was practicing Quidditch with the girls? Did I take it off?”  


Malfoy’s whole demeanor changed and Ginny watched the transformation with slight fascination. He went from relaxed, if not a little confused and worried, to closed off with a hint of hostility.  


“You don’t _practice_ anymore,” Malfoy told her sharply. “You don’t play Quidditch.”  


Wait, what? Ginny’s eyes narrowed.  


“I was on the field with the Holyhead Harpies,” she tried to explain.  


“Yes, interviewing them,” he told her dismissively. “You haven’t played Quidditch in years.”  


“I don’t play Quidditch anymore?” Ginny cried out, horrified.  


“Your absence isn’t a loss to them,” he continued over her.  


Malfoy stood from his seat and Ginny fumed, all traces of sympathy and understanding fleeing her. She wasn’t positive of her spot in the team but she was a damn good Quidditch player and he knew it.  


She faltered for a moment. Maybe she wasn’t anymore. What if she had been injured and didn’t play as well? Or she had the children and lost all her motivation?  


Ginny hated the sudden insecurity Malfoy caused.  


“No need to be rude, Malfoy,” she spat, shoving Witherwings off of her and standing up also. “This is all news to me, if you don’t recall.”  


“Yes, yes, poor Ginny,” Malfoy scowled.  


She gaped at him but he ignored her gaze, instead taking a seat at the desk in the middle of the room.  


“If you don’t mind, there’s plenty of other rooms for you to moan and cry in,” he told her. “Scurry off, will you? I’ve work to do.”  


Her face was hot. The heat came from her chest and rose up, coloring her red. Ginny wanted to hit him, badly, and her hand twitched for her wand.  


“Did the Bludger affect your hearing also?” Malfoy asked when she didn’t move, looking up from his work on the desk to meet her eyes. “I’m asking you to leave. You’ve better manners than to stay.”  


Ginny walked over to the desk and grabbed the sides of it, leaning down close to him. She wanted to scream at him. What had she done? All she wanted was answers and instead of giving them to her he was shutting her out. _This_ was the boy she remembered from Hogwarts.  


“I want you to answer my questions,” she told him, anger in her words.  


“After one too many hits to the head from a Bludger, you’ve forgotten the past ten years,” Malfoy said slowly, staring at her as if she were dumb. “You’ve forgotten you have kids and you’ve forgotten me. Your husband. Which is rather rude, you must admit.”  


Ginny wasn’t sure she ever glared at someone with as much hatred as she was now.  


“Ah, I suppose it is as if we’ve gone back in time,” Malfoy said lightly. “I haven’t seen you look at me like that in years.”  


His lips twitched and his eyes darkened but other than that his face became blank, as if his emotions had been washed away.  


_Don’t let him hide away, don’t let him be emotionless, make him fight, make him stay,_ a voice inside her head ordered and Ginny started at the commanding tone. It was her voice. She stepped back in surprise.  


“I just want to know-” she tried again but he waved her away.  


“Yes, well, you’re the one who’s lost their memory. I still have to continue on with life or else we’ll end up on the streets like Muggles. All of us; me, you, and the children.” He paused, as though in thought. “That’s if you even care about them anymore. What kind of mother forgets her own children?”  


It would’ve hurt less if he slapped her across the face. She didn’t remember her own children. Something must have flashed across her face for Malfoy’s expression changed but before he could add further insult to injury Ginny spun on her heel and left the study. The door slammed shut behind her, caught in her rage and pain, and she rushed through the foyer and down a corridor she had yet to explore. Two French doors were at the end of the hall. They swung open before she reached them and she walked outside.  


She wasn’t going to cry over what Malfoy said to her.  


What her husband said to her.  


Ginny took a shuddering breath as the coldness hit her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she crumbled against the wall and buried her head in her arms.  


~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~  


Well, if Malfoy wasn’t going to fill her in on her life she’d have to figure it out herself. Ginny avoided the study but there wasn’t any indication that Malfoy would be leaving the room anytime soon. She went back to her bedroom and looked for any clues, any information, but found nothing. There was only a framed photograph by the bed that she stopped and stared at. It was her and Malfoy, dressed in summer attire and laughing at something out of sight.  


She turned away from it with a huff and left the bedroom.  


Witherwings didn’t seem bothered by her shoving him off of her earlier and followed her throughout the house happily, meowing every few minutes to remind her he was right behind her. She was thankful for his presence.  


Together, they peered into every room. The bedroom closest to hers was a little girl’s room. Everything was bright yellow and green. Clearly Lyra was obsessed with flowers and nature. Ginny couldn’t help but grin as she eyed a chest filled with playthings. Hanging on the walls were many different pictures of flowers, each more obnoxious than the next, that Lyra must have drawn.  


The next bedroom was likely Gray’s but Ginny only assumed that because there was another cat in there, curled contently on the bed. Ginny pet the cat in greeting and it stared at her silently in return. Witherwings didn’t bother coming into that bedroom. She supposed the two cats weren’t very friendly with each other. Books were piled by the bed, almost like stepping blocks, and one was left open on the nightstand. Turning it so she could see the cover, Ginny frowned in surprise. _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_. She wondered if Charlie gave that to the little boy.  


Next in the corridor was a large bathroom that the children must share. And, across the corridor, was the last bedroom. Orion’s. Quidditch posters covered the walls. Some of the players Ginny recognized from competing against. The bed was an absolute mess and there were dirty clothes everywhere. She hummed as she looked over some letters on his tiny desk he had begun to write but never finished. One was addressed to Lorcan and another to Lysander. She wondered who the boys he was writing to were.  


After checking another room, which was a little spot the children seemed to use to their advantage to play and make messes, Ginny went back downstairs. She pointedly ignored the study and continued to explore. She found the kitchen, which was open and spacious and absolutely beautiful, and made herself a sandwich. Walking through the rest of the house, she continued munching on her snack.  


There was a dining room that gave the illusion to being outside, what with all the clear windows. Some Christmas decorations hung from the ceiling of the dining room. There were several closets in the corridor outside the dining room, one stuffed with brooms, the other stuffed with robes and jackets. And then, to her immense surprise, she stumbled upon the library.  


It was the largest room in the house by far. The library was inviting, with candles burning on the walls and a fire in the hearth. Ginny sighed happily, instantly relaxing as she entered the room. Hermione would love this. Her fingers trailed over the spines of the books as she circled the room, glancing up at portraits hanging on the walls. On the mantel of the fireplace, a jar of Floo powder and a jar of owl treats sat in the middle of two framed pictures. One picture was of the Weasleys, back when Ginny had been only a little girl. She stared at it thoughtfully. The other picture was of the Malfoys. Malfoy stood, young and proud, in between his parents, who frowned up from the photograph.  


She walked away, not wanting to look at the photos anymore.  


There were children’s books and adult novels, encyclopedias about Quidditch and books on gardening and cooking that filled the shelves. It was clear this was where the family spent more of their time. There were multiple sized chairs throughout the room and several tables. A Christmas tree stood beside one of the windows and it was the largest tree Ginny had ever seen inside a house. Staring around the room, caught in the emotion of seeing where her children spent most of their time, Ginny pulled a book from the shelf without thinking on it. A cool draft caught her attention and she looked at what she had grabbed. But the bookshelf was replaced with an entrance.  


“What?” Ginny mumbled and stepped through.  


It was a small spot but Ginny immediately knew it was hers. A desk sat by a window overlooking the garden. There was a vase of yellow tulips on the desk and a book or two. By the entrance there was a pile of neatly folded blankets that reminded her of her mum. She wondered if her mum had knitted them? They looked ridiculously comfy and Ginny grabbed one and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her eyes darted over the nook of a room. Quills were bountiful as was parchment, stashed beside the desk. On the single shelf in the room there were photo albums. Ginny grabbed them without second thought and took a seat in the comfy armchair.  


The first photo album was of Orion as a baby, of his first year of life. Ginny studied each photograph intensely, hoping for a flash of memory or a feeling she couldn’t place. Orion had been born bald and in one of the photographs Malfoy was holding the baby and waving at his head. It was rather obvious that Malfoy was hoping the baby would be blonde like him. Within a month, though, a puff of bright red curls had appeared. There was a photograph of Ginny holding Orion, laughing and combing her fingers through the baby’s hair, obviously celebrating a victory.  


Ginny went through each album slowly. The Malfoy in these pictures was not the Malfoy she remembered nor was it the Malfoy she had just interacted with in the study. They were happy in these pictures. Now she understood why her family kept telling her she loved her life. It was clear they were not exaggerating. But Ginny would never be happy with someone who treated her as Malfoy had just done.  


What had she even done to set him off? Ginny struggled to think back, having been blinded by a sudden rush of emotions. He hadn’t realized how serious her memory loss was, she had asked about the children, they had been fine… and then she had asked why she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. The question had set off something in him that Ginny couldn’t explain.  


If her memory would just come back, right now, she’d know why he had become so icy and cruel. Ginny hadn’t been wrong when she thought of Malfoy as all sharp angles. He was harsh and his words were cutting and he used that to his advantage.  


Lifting her hand, Ginny stared at her bare ring finger. Had she lost it and he was upset over it? That wouldn’t explain his reaction, no. So… they must have fought. Or she gave it back to him. Abruptly, Ginny stood and walked over to the desk in the room. She pulled open the drawers she had yet to explore. There had to be an answer somewhere in here. This was her spot in the house, this was where she came to relax, if there was something that could help her memory it would be in here-  


Ginny paused as she came across an unopened letter. The familiar writing on it made her breath catch and she sat down with it clutched in her hands. Shakily, Ginny broke the wax seal and read.  


_Hello Gin,  
_

_Sorry for the late response, been rather busy with the Ministry. I really need to just leave there and start teaching at Hogwarts. That would be less stressful, don’t you think? Maybe not though, far too many Weasleys there right now…_  


_Anyhow, I’ll make sure to come to the Christmas Eve dinner at your place. Wouldn’t miss it for the world._  


_Harry_  


She let out her breath slowly. Harry. They were still in contact. It was obvious the letter had just been written. Perhaps it had arrived yesterday when she had been at St. Mungo’s? Ginny wanted to see him, now more than ever. Was he still at that flat in Godric’s Hollow? Could she go there now?  


Looking at the clock that hung on the wall, Ginny realized time had slipped through her fingers. It was nearly ten at night. She couldn’t go see him, not now. She was a married woman, married to one of Harry’s worst enemies, and…  


Ginny put the letter back on the desk and miserably opened another drawer. This really wasn’t fair. What had she done to deserve this? Glutton for punishment, Ginny half hoped to find another letter from Harry in the drawers as she thought of her options. It was in the bottom drawer, the last one she had to search, that she found something that made her heart stop.  


Divorce papers.  


Perhaps her eyes were tricking her but, no, no, they were divorce papers.  


Ginny read over them quickly. There were pages and pages of information and Ginny’s mind swam as she looked at it. Had she been planning on divorcing Malfoy? Did he know this? Was that why her ring was gone? Divorces didn’t happen often in the wizarding world, but especially not with conservative, pure-blood families like the Malfoys. She flipped to the last page and almost dropped the papers.  


There was only one name signed and dated at the bottom.  


_Draco Lucius Malfoy  
_

_17/12/2017_  


They were getting a divorce? He had given her divorce papers? But… this was only the other day. No wonder her family didn’t know about it. Everyone thought everything was fine but here was proof. A thrill went through Ginny at the discovery but something else prodded her too.  


A sinking feeling, as if this wasn’t right.  


She was worried about the children, of course, that was why the wretched feeling had arrived. But they’d be fine, Ginny was sure. Staring down at the papers, she wondered what her reaction had been when he presented them to her. Had she been upset? Or relieved? Ginny had never thought she’d get divorced. She also never thought she’d marry a Malfoy.  


Placing the papers back in the drawer, Ginny found her eyes wandering back to the letter from Harry she had just opened. If Malfoy wanted a divorce then surely she wasn’t in the wrong to go see Harry. Ginny bit her lip and tapped her hand anxiously against the desk. Then, with a deep breath, she left the room and reentered the library. The bookshelf reappeared behind her but Ginny hardly noticed.  


She walked up to the fireplace that roared with life and grabbed the pot of Floo powder on the mantel. Grabbing a handful, Ginny threw it into the flames. Before she could convince herself not to, she stepped in with one thought in mind.  


She was going to see Harry.  


~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Please review!


	3. Day Three

When the fire spat her out, Ginny barely managed to catch herself as she stumbled into the dark room. Her head snapped up and she looked around, hoping that Harry still lived in the same flat she remembered. It would be a reach, surely, but Harry had always wanted to live by simple means and the flat at Godric’s Hollow had been his dream come true. It was too dark to tell who lived here now though. They clearly did not have security wards or she would have never been able to enter via Floo. Or it was Harry’s flat like she hoped and he allowed her access through his wards.

She brought a hand to her chest, feeling instantly that she made the wrong choice -- she had been too rash -- when she heard footsteps coming from the hallway. Someone was groaning, or yawning maybe, but once Ginny lifted her wand for extra light the entire room lit up. Ginny straightened, heart pounding, as someone rounded the corner.

Harry.

It was his flat. She was right. He had never moved out, even after ten years. Ginny felt herself instantly relax at the sight of Harry and the fact that this was still their flat.

Harry was pulling on a robe, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. Oddly, he didn’t seem at all concerned to find her in his flat during -- what was clearly -- his bedtime. It made her feel warm, like she was being welcomed home.

“Ginny,” he called, scratching his head. “What a surprise.”

“ _Harry_ ,” she all but cried, rushing to him.

She almost tumbled into his arms and he caught her with a slight stumble and a light chuckle. He rubbed her back gently and she held onto him tight. Closing her eyes, Ginny breathed him in. Dirt and wood, he always smelt like the outdoors for some reason, and it soothed her deep inside.

He smelt nothing of mint.

Ginny fidgeted, caught off guard by the thought.

After a long moment, where Harry held her without question, Ginny finally leaned back. The loss of his touch made her feel suddenly cold and wrong and she bit her lip, staring up at him.

“How’d you know it was me?” she asked, not sure of what else to say.

“The wards only allow a select few through. And it lets me know anyone that’s arriving,” he told her kindly.

He looked just like the man she remembered. His hair was graying, but it had started to when they were dating, so she wasn’t surprised to see that the black of his hair was still fighting a losing battle. It was no shock, really, with everything he had been through in his short life. Even his bloody glasses looked the same. Ginny briefly wondered if he was ever going to get a different style.

With a tired smile on his face, Harry nodded towards the kitchen.

“Tea?”

She nodded and followed him, looking around at all the differences of the flat. Years ago, though it only seemed like a few months ago, they had taken a week off work to simply decorate and rearrange the apartment. It had been old and needed work when Harry decided to live there but it was their only real choice. Harry wanted to be close to his parents and the childhood he could’ve had and how could Ginny deny him that?

All traces of her were gone now, however. Where Ginny had once hung a painting she bought from Hogsmeade, there was now a broomstick rack. The china that Harry had bought for Ginny, that they never used except for special occasions (like a particularly good shag), was no longer in the cabinet in the corridor, replaced with plates that had been painted by Teddy when he was younger. Harry had decided to repaint the kitchen yellow, the color he wanted before but that Ginny convinced him not to do because it would be too bright. She had to admit that it looked nice.

It all felt very wrong, and when he turned his green eyes to look at her, she ignored the dread filling her stomach.

He placed a kettle on the stove and Ginny took a seat at the small table.

“Who told you?” Ginny asked miserably.

Harry turned slightly and glanced down at her. Then he shrugged, offering her a tiny lopsided smile.

“Ron,” he responded. “Almost as soon as he left the Burrow last night.”

It only made sense, Ginny knew. She sighed. Did Ron also tell Harry that the last thing she remembered was when they once dated and lived here? She had a sinking feeling that, yes, her prat of a brother did. Oh, what did she expect, really? Ron never kept much from Harry and his little sister’s memory loss was not likely to be one of the things he would. 

If anything, Ginny should have assumed Harry knew. And maybe she had known, in some tiny part of her. 

“How are you feeling?” he questioned, startling her from her thoughts.

Would the normal Harry be this kind and welcoming to her? She wouldn’t know for sure until her memories returned, yet Ginny had a feeling that her arrival in his flat would be a surprise, day or night, without prior arrangement.

“Tired,” she replied honestly, rubbing her forehead. “Lost.”

Harry brought two mismatched mugs to the table before turning the heat off the kettle -- right as it was about to whistle. Ginny watched the steam rise from the mug as he poured the water.

“Milk?” 

He was already arranging a small saucer on the table next to her cup. Harry remembered exactly how she preferred her tea. There had been more than one occasion when he brewed it for her.

“You’re so domesticated,” Ginny muttered, cupping the warm mug in her hands.

It was almost too warm and she bit her lip hard to stop herself from pulling away. The pain was the only thing that reminded her that this was real, this was her life -- she chose this.

Harry snorted at her words and sat down in the chair beside her, turning so that his body completely faced her. Ginny’s eyes roamed his face and found the part in his hair where the legendary lightning bolt scar was. It was almost completely faded now.

“I’ve always been domesticated,” Harry corrected. “If it weren’t for me, the Dursleys would’ve likely starved to death when I was six or seven.”

Ginny giggled and nodded. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied.

Harry took a sip of his tea and frowned.

“Too hot,” he told her. “Give it a minute.”

He let out several long breaths, as if that would help cool his tongue, and Ginny watched his actions comfortably. Harry was never cruel to her. He had never put up any walls around her. If he felt weird about this situation, he wasn’t letting it bother him. When he caught her staring, he smiled again.

“So the last thing you remember is living here?” Harry asked, lifting the mug to his mouth after he spoke. 

“Bloody hell,” Ginny grumbled, cheeks flushing. “Ron didn’t leave anything out, did he?”

Harry started laughing at her discomfort but reached over and squeezed her shoulder. The action was warm and kind and reminded her that, to Harry, she was a friend. Just a friend. It felt so very wrong. 

“You can’t expect him to, can you?” Harry questioned and Ginny unhappily shook her head.

“No, I suppose not,” she conceded. 

When she met Harry’s eyes, he was waiting patiently for her answer to his original question.

“I remember me and you,” Ginny finally whispered. “I remember living in this flat. And the life we had here, together.”

A frown tugged at Harry’s lips and he looked a bit uncomfortable before he sighed. His breath was warm and fanned her face. 

“It had been a good few years,” Harry told her gently. 

“What happened?” Ginny asked suddenly, something inside her squeezing tight.

Her palms were beginning to sweat and it had nothing to do with the heat of the tea. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this answer yet Ginny needed to know. How did they end? Why? Did she do something wrong? Or did she make the horrible choice and leave Harry? Were they both very heartbroken after? Was he still heartbroken?

“Well,” he began, then paused. “I wasn’t enough for you.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Ginny gasped, horrified at his words.

He brushed away her concern and took another sip of his tea. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to collect himself before turning his attention back to Ginny.

“I didn’t mean to sound spiteful,” Harry told her.

Spiteful? Ginny would have laughed if she wasn’t on the verge of tears. Harry was afraid he sounded spiteful when she was the one who made him feel like he wasn’t enough for her? What had she done? 

“Harry, you were always enough,” Ginny started, releasing her hold on the mug to reach for him.

He allowed her to grab his hands and he squeezed back reassuringly.

“No, you don’t understand,” he told her, giving her another lopsided smile. “Our time had been nearing an end for months before you broke up with me. And… and it hadn’t been easy, we both thought we’d last forever, but there were issues that we both had ignored that we just couldn’t keep ignoring.”

The way he spoke of their relationship, so final, so finished, made a flash of heat rush through her. She felt sick and released her hold on him.

“Did I leave you for… for Malfoy?” she croaked, her words choking her.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he stared at her as though he barely knew her. Then he shook his head and it was all normal again.

“No,” Harry told her firmly. “We were completely done by the time you and Malfoy-- look, Ginny, this must all be very strange for you but when we broke up, it was very, very mutual. And when Malfoy-- when  
Draco, came into your life and you reintroduced him to everyone, it was a good thing.”

“A good thing?” Ginny ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

Her head was beginning to pound and she felt more lost now speaking to Harry than before she arrived.

“Everyone speaks about Malfoy as though he’s some saint, as though what he had done during the Final Battle wasn’t despicable, as though his actions, if he had succeeded, couldn’t have changed the course of the war--”

Ginny abruptly halted her rant and leaned back. Harry blew out a long breath and also reclined in his seat, mimicking her earlier action and running a hand through his messy hair. The space between Harry and Ginny spoke volumes. They weren’t together and Ginny knew this, she knew she was married to Malfoy, she couldn’t deny it anymore. However, there was so much time missing from her memories that she couldn’t place a finger on how she and Harry were supposed to be. In her mind, they were still in love, everything was fine, he was meant to be the one comforting her. In her mind, this was her home.

Except this flat was not the home she had created with Harry. And the man in front of her did not look at her with pride and love, not like he used to.

Furthermore, Harry was now on good terms with Malfoy? How had that happened? After the Final Battle, once Harry had slowly begun to fill her in on everything, she realized the extent of cruelty in Draco Malfoy. Harry had never been mean about Malfoy when he told Ginny about everything, about how Malfoy had tried to turn Harry in to Voldemort. If anything, he seemed to take pity on his enemy.

It was the same pity that Harry presently showed.

And he tried to get Ginny to understand why he felt that way. 

“That’s all history, Gin,” Harry spoke finally. “Malfoy… Draco, he’s not that kid anymore. We’ve spent almost every Christmas Eve together for the past seven or eight years.”

Harry laughed though it was short lived.

“Even the way you say his name,” he started then stopped. “You’ve created a family with Draco. And--”

“What if my life isn’t as happy as everyone thinks it is?” Ginny interrupted, eyes burning as she glared at Harry. “Everyone thinks my life is so great but what if-- what if it isn’t? What if I was never meant to marry Malfoy, what if us breaking up was a mistake?”

“Ginny.” Her name sounded heavy from Harry’s mouth. 

His disappointment was palpable. 

“Ginny,” he continued. “The marriage you and Draco have is something most people would only dream of.”

Ginny frowned, her lower lip beginning to tremble.

“How can you say that? What do you know about our marriage?” 

Harry appeared ready to throw his hands up in the air at her words. Ginny’s face was flushed, and she was suddenly angry and sad at the same time. This wasn’t fair and Harry wasn’t listening, he wasn’t really listening to her, he was just going to let her continue with this life. He wasn’t even going to fight for her.

“I don’t know what goes on inside your marriage,” Harry admitted. “But, Gin, the last thing you remember is us dating. So you don’t really know what’s going on in your marriage either.” 

He was right. On the other hand, she did know about the divorce papers sitting in the bottom drawer of her desk. She knew that Malfoy had signed them and left them for her. Ginny knew that her ring finger was bare and that Malfoy had been horrible to her in his study and…

Wiping at her eyes, Ginny stood from the table. Harry rose as well, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he waited for her to speak.

“I’ll leave then,” she told him and started out of the kitchen. “Thanks for the tea, I suppose, Harry--”

“No, Ginny, wait.”

Harry grabbed her arm and gently spun her around. She stared stubbornly at the ground and she heard him sigh. His breath brushed the top of her head and the position of their bodies was so familiar, so very familiar to her, that the tension left her.

“Stay over. It’s already past midnight and I… please stay. I don’t want you to leave upset.”

Normally she would have rejected his invitation. She wanted to fight with him and she wanted to cry and she really, really wanted to sleep. But the idea of returning home to Malfoy and his harsh words was more unappealing than staying here with Harry and his lack of understanding. Removing her gaze from the floor, Ginny nodded.

“Okay, fine,” she muttered. 

Harry offered her a smile.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Sleep hadn’t come easy, likely because she felt wrong sleeping in the guest room at her flat and not in the master bedroom with her boyfriend. But Harry wasn’t her boyfriend, this wasn’t her flat, and if she didn’t get that through her head anytime soon, the next few days were going to be increasingly awkward. When dawn arrived, Ginny left Harry’s flat the same way she arrived-- confused and anxious and a bit worried.

Had Malfoy noticed she left the night before? Likely not. He was probably holed up in his study with the house-elf Ginny had yet to meet, fuming about his wife and her memory loss. Had she even crossed his mind once she left the study? Were they already divorced to him? Was the signing of the divorce papers the end of their relationship? When he came home from the States, was it truly, only out of obligation?

Her mind didn’t seem able to stop asking questions. Questions about Malfoy, about Harry, about herself. She just wished it would stop.

The library was quiet and undisturbed when she Flooed back. Sunlight streaming from the high windows brightened the room and Ginny glanced around before stepping further in. Brushing dirt and dust off her jumper, Ginny was already halfway across the library when she noticed him.

Malfoy.

He was slouched in one of the many chairs placed around the library. She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed him right away. The chair was facing the hearth and he was so pale against the dark cloth he stood out like a sore thumb. Had he… had he been waiting for her?

She stopped walking, bringing a hand to her mouth to nervously bite on her thumb nail. He was asleep, that much she was sure of. And he had gotten out of his robes and into something far more casual-- a gray jumper and black slacks. His attire was wrinkled from sitting in the chair so awkwardly. How long had he been there? Ginny hesitantly took a step towards him but stopped. She should wake him, she knew, but the idea of answering any of his questions stilled her.

What she needed was a good hour or two of sleep. She could sleep in one of the children’s rooms and wake up a bit more refreshed than she was now, then she could face the sleeping dragon. Turning, Ginny made up her mind and headed towards the exit. Or tried to, at least. With her next step, Ginny managed to press on a particularly loud floor board. Its obnoxious groan startled her and she jumped backwards, gasping. The back of her leg hit an end table and she then stumbled forward, falling to the ground, barely landing on her hands and knees.

The palms of her hands burned and Ginny cursed, sitting on her bottom so that she could look at the irritated skin. The sensation of eyes on her reminded Ginny of her surroundings. Slowly, hesitantly, Ginny looked over her shoulder. 

Malfoy was awake. His light eyes burned bright as he stared her down. 

“I fell,” she lamely supplied.

His eyebrows arched. While she was making a fool of herself, Malfoy had woken up and straightened himself out a bit. He was no longer folded in on himself. Now, he sat straight-backed and watched her curiously. She expected to glimpse something recognizable in his eyes. Instead, they were clear and intense, and studying her and… Ginny’s cheeks warmed.

“How was Potter’s?”

Her mouth dropped open at his words and she attempted to stand. What was with all these men knowing everything going on with her? She wanted to speak but the rush of blood to her head made her dizzy, and white stars were scattered across her vision. Squeezing her eyes shut, Ginny lifted a hand and pressed it against her eyelids. Once the feeling subsided, she removed her hand and opened her eyes, hoping both Malfoy and the white stars were gone.

Only the stars heeded her wish.

Malfoy must have rushed towards her for he was now nearer, his hands reaching out to hold onto her. She exhaled sharply at his close proximity.

“What are you doing?” she asked softly.

His lips pressed together.

“I’d rather you not faint here,” he drawled.

She let out another breath and stepped away from him.

“I’m fine,” Ginny replied shortly.

Licking her lips, Ginny wrapped her arms around herself and met his eyes.

“How’d you know?” she couldn’t finish the sentence. _How’d you know where I was? How’d you know I was with Harry?_

Malfoy frowned at her and she was pretty sure he shrugged a shoulder but the movement was so quick that Ginny wasn’t sure.

“Potter sent me an owl to let me know where you were.”

A stab of betrayal pierced through Ginny. Harry had sent Malfoy an owl? But when? She struggled to think of when Harry had any time without her close by. Either it had happened when she arrived or when she turned in for the night. How could Harry have done that?

“Oh, don’t look like that,” Malfoy growled angrily, though his words weren’t as cutting as the day before. “You’re my wife, and you showed up at his house in the middle of the night. What did you expect? He assumed I’d be worried over your disappearance.”

He _had_ been waiting up for her. Malfoy knew where she had been, Harry made sure of that, so him sleeping in the chair had been to wait for her arrival home. For whatever reason, Malfoy didn’t even seem angry. Maybe a bit annoyed, yes, but not furious at her for leaving the house to go to Harry’s. 

“So now I’m your wife?” Ginny asked sharply, exhaustion keeping the bite from her voice.

Malfoy’s eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head. She couldn’t maintain the eye contact though. His stare held too many questions.

“What does that mean?” he questioned.

She felt him take a step closer and she looked up at him again. Now he was curious.

“Ginny?” he pressed. “Do you remember anything? Has your memory returned?”

Ginny inhaled sharply at his use of her name. She had never heard him call her Ginny. The past twenty-four hours she wasn’t sure if he had ever directly called for her. It did something strange to her insides and she didn’t like the feeling. 

Did she remember anything? No. But she had found the divorce papers and it opened up some possible answers to her missing past. Ginny wasn’t sure she was ready for Malfoy to know about her discovery just yet.

“Do you always speak to me like you did yesterday?” 

Ginny dodged his question even though she did want to know the answer to hers. There was something in her voice she didn’t like as she asked, a sadness she wasn’t used to, and when Malfoy’s expression darkened and his lips turned down in a frown, she realized he heard it. She was sure his response was about to be sarcastic and she braced herself for it. Honestly, she didn’t want to fight, not right now. Harry had confirmed to her what she had been trying to deny all along. Malfoy was her husband, Harry wasn’t a part of the picture, and he wouldn’t be rescuing her from this nightmare. 

“I was horrible, wasn’t I?” Malfoy admitted softly.

She took a deep, shuddering breath as she reflected on his cruelty from the day before. He knew just where to press her, how to make his remarks hurt the most, and she knew nothing on how to defend herself against it. It wasn’t fair.

“You didn’t deserve any of that,” Malfoy continued.

Or did she? If they were getting a divorce, if the voice was hers that had told her to make him _stay_ , make him _fight_ , perhaps she had a part in it too? Perhaps she could be just as cruel and cold as he was. It was the first time since the night before that Ginny thought on the fact that she also had something to do with the divorce papers in her drawers.

Ginny didn’t, couldn’t, move when Malfoy stepped much closer. He lifted his right arm uncertainly, pushing a lock of hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. The gesture was strangely intimate, causing her to shiver. He studied her reaction before speaking.

“As much as you like to believe otherwise, I do care about you,” he told her.

His words sounded like a confession of sorts. This time, it was Ginny tilting her head, staring up at him and wondering… Malfoy had clearly won everybody in her life over. She had a feeling she would have to venture deeply through her group of friends and family to find someone who did not accept him. And if that were true, Ginny had certainly cared for Malfoy. She likely still did and just could not remember it.

And as he observed her, she knew he wasn’t lying. Malfoy did care for her. Despite his harsh words and lack of outward emotions, Malfoy worried over her.

Even with the divorce papers tucked in her desk.

Ginny sighed, feeling fatigue seep into her bones. 

“Can we…” she paused, unsure of what to say. “Can we just be on the same team right now?”

Malfoy was clearly thrown off by her question, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I mean, who knows how long my memory is going to be gone and the children are going to be coming here and I really need--” Ginny stopped again, hating herself for blushing. “I really want us to be on the same team right now. When my memory comes back, we can pick up wherever we were but right now… right now can I just trust you to help me?”

Something she said made his expression turn quizzical. Once again, she found Malfoy trying to read her, trying to figure out if she were playing games with him. Upon discovering none, his demeanor changed. He seemed to sag a bit, exhaustion etched in his face.

“Yes, Gin. Of course.”

She wasn’t sure she had ever heard those four words mean as much. If only she understood what it meant.

Nodding slowly, Ginny bit her lip and took a deep breath. If they were going to be on the same side -- if they were going to help each other right now -- she had to be open to change. She had to accept Malfoy for who he was and what they had built. 

He took a step away from her and tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants. They stood, facing but not staring. Then, he spoke again.

“I’ll be going to your brother’s, in about an hour or two, to get the children,” he told her. “It’d be best if you get more sleep. They’re always a bit insane when they come home from his house, and I imagine it’ll only be worse as they haven’t seen you since the accident.”

The children were coming home today. She could feel butterflies exploding in her stomach and she took another deep breath.

“O-- oh, okay,” she replied uneasily.

Malfoy inclined his head towards the exit of the library and together they headed towards it. Their shoulders brushed for a second before Malfoy stepped away.

“Should we tell them?” Ginny asked.

He looked over at her.

“Hm?”

“The children,” she continued. “Should we tell them I lost my memory?”

Malfoy’s eyebrows knitted together as he thought over an answer. 

“They’ll likely figure something is off with you,” he confessed. “But I think it will confuse them and… and hurt them if they think you’ve forgotten them.”

But I have, she thought desperately. At his words, he met her wide eyes and his expression softened apologetically.

“You had a serious head injury,” Malfoy elaborated, voice low. “You will remember them soon, that I know for certain.”

She didn’t respond to that and he didn’t need her to. He continued speaking as they entered the foyer and both turned, in step, to ascend the staircase.

“If it comes to it, we can tell them. If they don’t realize anything -- if we can simply distract them long enough until your memory returns -- all the better. Your brother and Granger made sure not to mention anything to them about the memory loss.”

Sighing, Ginny put on a brave face and nodded. Malfoy’s lips pursed and she wondered if he was hiding a smile or a frown. She desperately wished she could read him. It would help her navigate through this maze of a relationship they had. 

They stopped in front of their bedroom door and Ginny blanched. 

“I was planning on sleeping in one of the kids’ rooms,” she started but he waved her off.

“No, don’t bother. Sleep in here. I’m afraid I didn’t get much work done last night and since I’m not abroad with the partners right now I need to maintain some sort of presence.”

Malfoy pushed open the bedroom door and nodded to her. He didn’t seem to need her to say anything. So, before she could attempt to argue or apologize or anything, Malfoy turned on his heel and headed down the corridor back towards the staircase. Ginny watched him leave, her stomach in knots. Though Malfoy hadn’t said a word, she understood why he didn’t get any work done last night.

At some point, he had realized she was missing. Or, perhaps, he had been working and Harry’s owl arrived. Then, he had stationed himself in the library, waiting for her return. 

Once he disappeared from view, Ginny shut the door and stepped further into the bedroom. Her bedroom. Their bedroom. She looked around and felt more at ease than the first couple times she had been in here. Slipping off her shoes, Ginny approached the bed hesitantly. Did she and Malfoy share this bed often? Had the children ever come in here and slept between their parents? Would Malfoy ever finish work in bed while she slept beside him? Did she ever wake him up in the middle of the night, hungry for something only he could give her?

Her face burned at the thought so she pushed it away. Lifting the heavy blankets, Ginny climbed underneath. She was instantly enveloped by the cloth and she tugged off her jumper, tossing it to the side, allowing the heat to encase her. Ginny thought it would take longer to fall asleep but as she recounted her conversation with Malfoy, and his agreement to help her through her predicament, she found herself drifting away.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Something was pulling at her face. Ginny sleepily lifted a hand and attempted to brush it away (if Harry was pulling a prank on her, he’d be sorry). She heard soft giggles at the action. After a second of peace, however, the tugging returned. Only this time, the pulling of the skin was getting too close to her eye for comfort. Groaning, Ginny yanked her head away.

Harry knew better than to bother her while she slept.

Groggy, Ginny opened her eyes and tried to spot Harry but he wasn’t standing by the bed. As her surroundings came into focus, Ginny realized she wasn’t at her flat. No, no, how could she forget? Harry wasn’t going to be waking her up again, not anytime soon. She was at her house with Malfoy. So who was bothering her?

Looking down, Ginny met a pair of familiar gray eyes. They shone vividly, and her eyebrows creased in confusion. Then, she looked at their owner. 

“Mummy,” the little boy whispered in excitement. “You’re awake!”

Ginny sat up abruptly, more than a tad startled by the little boy on the side of her bed. She recognized him instantly from the photograph her mum had shown her the other day. Merlin, had that only been two days ago?

“Gray?” she called, testing out the name on her tongue.

The little boy took that as an invitation to climb onto the bed with Ginny. She wanted to back away, to give him space, but he seemed intent on making sure that didn’t happen. And, bloody hell, he looked exactly like Malfoy did when he was at Hogwarts, except significantly younger. Gray grinned widely, several teeth missing, as he climbed into Ginny’s lap.

“Does your head hurt terribly?” Gray asked, face ridiculously close to hers.

She leaned her head back a pinch but he leaned closer with the given space. His eyes, sharp and inquisitive, studied her. The stare was a familiar to Ginny. After all, Malfoy looked at her like that each time their eyes met.

“Can I see?” Gray was already reaching for her head, pushing away her hair without regard. “Was there lots of blood, mummy?”

He didn’t seem to need her to answer anything. She let him do as he pleased while she watched on with fascination. This was her child. Gray. Rigel Gray -- her middle child, whom Malfoy had said clung to her. His scent flooded her nose, reminding her of how Teddy use to smell, a fragrance of grass and youth and joy only young children seemed to carry. 

“Daddy said he made sure that Bludger would never be used again-- is that true, mummy? Did daddy get very angry and yell at the Beaters? Mummy, why weren’t you paying attention? You always tell Ori to pay attention, don’t you? That’s the only reason you let him fly on his broom, isn’t it?”

Now Gray sat back down in her lap, satisfied with his inspection. Freckles dusted his cheeks, the only real sign that he had any Weasley in him. A surge of affection hit Ginny and she hesitantly reached up and cupped the young boy’s face. He smiled brightly at her.

“I was very silly,” Ginny told him quietly. “Did I worry you?”

He looked away from her, down at his hands, and Ginny realized he had brought a tiny dragon toy with him. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now that Gray had checked to make sure she was fine, he was back to twisting and turning the toy in his hands.

“Yes, of course, mummy,” Gray answered, looking back up.

His eyes were a different shade of gray from Malfoy’s. While Malfoy’s were light, Gray’s eyes reminded her of clouds right before a thunderstorm. Dark and heavy. Chaos brimming on the edges. Beauty shining clearly through the center. 

Carefully, Ginny released her hold on his face and wrapped her arms around him. He accepted her touch, giggling when she pulled him to her chest. His tiny hands bunched up in her shirt and he was talking, his voice muffled. Ginny could hardly focus on his words. This was her child. They had created a child together, her and Malfoy. They had created several.

Her eyes were wet and she took a shaky breath just as the bedroom door opened. Head snapping up, Ginny saw it was Malfoy. He let out a loud breath, not surprised to see that she was awake and that Gray was in her arms. 

“Gray, I told you to leave your mum alone,” Malfoy called. “Remember when I said that? Once at your aunt and uncle’s, once when we arrived home, and then once more before you left the library. Do you remember?”

Gray turned in Ginny’s arms, the same, large smile on his face.

“Yes but I wanted to check on her,” he answered Malfoy seriously. “She seems to be okay.”

“I told you she was,” Malfoy reminded his son.

Their son.

Malfoy met her gaze, exasperated.

“Yes, I know, daddy, but I wanted to make sure myself,” Gray responded.

He was already beginning to climb out of the bed. The loss of his heat made Ginny want to reach for him but she held back. Gray started towards his father, realized he left his toy dragon on the bed, and ran back to grab it.

“Daddy did tell me to let you sleep,” Gray admitted as he took hold of the toy. “But I just wanted to make sure, mummy.”

Ginny nodded, unsure of what to say. Gray ran towards Malfoy.

“Lyra will be very happy to know mummy’s okay.”

Malfoy put his hand on the top of Gray’s head, tilting it up so the little boy had to meet his eyes. As fascinated as Ginny had been with watching Gray interact with her, she was even more so watching her son interact with Malfoy. There was a softness to Malfoy she hadn’t seen before, and a familiarity to their interactions that calmed her.

“How about you don’t tell Lyra or Orion about your mum being awake so that she can go back to sleep?” Malfoy asked.

“But that would be lying, daddy,” Gray admonished. 

Malfoy sighed, raising a single eyebrow. 

“It’s fine, Mal-” Ginny stopped. “It’s fine. I’m awake. I’m not sure I could go back to sleep even if I tried.”

Gray gave Ginny the familiar, big smile that seemed to be a constant part of his expression before darting around Malfoy and leaving the bedroom. She could hear his footsteps race down the corridor. Malfoy glanced after the boy before turning back to Ginny. 

“You’ll regret that,” Malfoy told her, not unkindly. “They have many questions for you and have been more than little anxious waiting for you to get up.”

Ginny pushed the blankets off of her and got out of the bed. Stretching her arms above her, she tossed a small smile at Malfoy.

“Good thing I’ll have you there to help me handle them,” she said.

He looked surprised at her words before nodding. A corner of his lip twisted up, only for a second, before he spoke.

“Indeed. We’ll likely be in the kitchen when you’re ready to come down.”

Malfoy turned and left, shutting the door behind him. Ginny was uncertain where her teasing words had come from. Good thing Malfoy would be there to help her? Was she… Dear Merlin, was that flirting? Did she just flirt with him? And she had smiled. At him. 

Ginny could only assume it was from seeing Gray, a miniature Malfoy, that threw her off. Or, perhaps, it was sleeping in the bed she shared with Malfoy. Or, just maybe, it was because she finally felt like they were on the same page.

Either way she didn’t like how easy it had come to her. She didn’t know Malfoy. And Ginny didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. The signed divorce papers were still stashed in her desk. There were huge pieces of missing information that Ginny knew would shape her view on Malfoy.

However, she had no time to worry about that now. There were still two children she had to face. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

When Ginny finally made her way downstairs, after washing her face and changing clothes, she could hear the sounds of the kitchen from the foyer. She was cautious as she approached. All caution disappeared when she spotted the little girl twirling in a circle outside the kitchen door. 

She was very young, or perhaps she looked so young because of how tiny she was, with a head of curly, red hair that was pulled up into a haphazard bun. Holding her hands out, the little girl stared down at the ground as she slowly spun in a circle. She was wearing a pink tutu and a yellow jumper with a green flower sewn onto it. The jumper was clearly the work of Ginny’s mum. 

Ginny watched her twirl, entranced. On the girl’s chubby face were hundreds of freckles. They made her pale skin look darker than it was. The profile of her nose told Ginny it was her nose: tiny and like a button, as her father used to say. While Gray looked like a miniature Malfoy, Lyra was a mini Ginny.

She released a breath she wasn’t aware she held and the little girl looked up. Lyra’s face brightened and she raced over.

“Mummy!” she cried and raised her thin arms to be picked up.

Ginny caught her with ease and swung her up onto her hip. Leaning back as though to get a better look at her, Lyra reached out and touched Ginny’s face with her pointer finger.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, mummy,” Lyra continued dramatically. “Auntie ‘Mione was the one reading my bedtime stories but it’s not good like when you do.”

Lyra pursed her lips together as she stared at Ginny. Tracing Ginny’s arms with her chubby fingers, Lyra didn’t seem to need to take a breath as she spoke.

“I didn’t like it,” Lyra confided. “Daddy said you hurt your head. Auntie ‘Mione and Uncle Ron—they-- they both said you hurt your head too. You look the same. Does it still hurt?”

Lyra leaned in close, the same way Gray had, as she waited for Ginny’s answer.

“I’m fine,” Ginny told her. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Just a boo boo?” Lyra asked skeptically.

Ginny nodded.

“Yes, just a boo boo.”

Lyra nodded back at Ginny.

“Can you take me to the kitchen? Daddy is making food.”

“Oh, of course,” Ginny replied.

She shifted Lyra’s weight from her right hip to her left. Even though the girl was little, she was still heavy. Or, if Ginny would admit it, her body wasn’t very capable of holding a child for long periods of time. Ginny started towards the kitchen, and all the noise, as Lyra leaned close to her.

“I want a television like Aunt ‘Mione’s. They always let us watch it when we’re there,” Lyra said, voice loud in her ear. “Uncle Ron would after I’d woken up and Aunt ‘Mione was at work. He told me not to tell daddy or Aunt ‘Mione but I can tell you, right? Why can’t we get one?”

“A what?” Ginny asked. “A tele-what?”

“A television,” Lyra supplied. “So we can watch cartoons and movies. Aunt ‘Mione has a ton of them at her house. Rose and Hugo get to watch -- they get to watch it all the time – so why can’t we?”

“I have no idea what that is,” Ginny responded, pushing open the kitchen door. “I’ll ask your--”

Her words were cut off by a shriek of laughter. 

The kitchen had been completely spotless when Ginny found her way to it the day before. Now, however, it was a mess. Gray was on a chair, making loud roaring sounds as his toy dragon animated along with  
him. An illusion of fire exploded from the toy’s mouth. Malfoy was shouting over his shoulder, though Ginny couldn’t distinguish what he was saying, while he was waving his wand. Pots and pans flew out from various cabinets, the sink was filling with soapy dish water, a frying pan on the stove flipped two eggs and they landed with a sizzle. And Orion… He was darting around the kitchen, jumping and spinning and rolling, barely dodging flying plates and cups. 

The sight reminded her of early mornings at the Burrow when she was a child and her heart warmed.

Lyra struggled out of her arms immediately, and the loss of her weight was welcome. Ginny shook her arms out as she turned her attention to Orion. He didn’t seem to notice the presence of two additional people to the kitchen. Then again, neither did Malfoy or Gray. When Lyra ran up to her biggest brother, he rolled his eyes and sidestepped her.

“What do you want, Gray?” Malfoy asked loudly.

Gray continued to roar.

“Gray? Gray, answer me,” he snapped. “Or you’re getting eggs like the rest of us.”

“Eggs are gross!” Gray shouted, jumping off the chair and racing towards his father.

“How about waffles?” Orion countered, rolling over to Malfoy.

Malfoy glanced down at the kids, face drawn.

“I can’t make waffles,” he told the children.

“Yeah but mummy does all the time,” Orion declared, a whine in his voice. “And eggs are so boring.”

“Well, mummy isn’t cooking,” Malfoy answered.

“Well, why not?” Orion responded, folding his arms. “You never cook, I want mummy to cook, she never burns anything!”

“Waffles!” Gray screamed. “Yes, let’s have waffles! And ice cream! And-- and a cake! ‘Cause mummy is finally awake.” 

“Cake?” Lyra perked up, stopping mid-twirl. “Cake for breakfast? That’s just silly, right, daddy?”

“Yes, my dear,” Malfoy responded.

He went to say something else but noticed Ginny out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy fully turned, raising an eyebrow as if to say _Get ready_.

“Mum?” 

Something hit her stomach hard and Ginny gasped, stumbling. She tried to catch her balance, hearing Malfoy’s yell, but tiny arms wrapped around her middle prevented her from doing so. Someone was burying their head into her stomach. After a moment, she was able to regain her composure and she looked down at the top of Orion’s red hair. He was mumbling into her shirt but she couldn’t hear him over Malfoy.

“Orion, I told you to be careful when you saw her,” he chided. 

Ginny met Malfoy’s eyes before looking back down at her eldest child.

He finally looked up from her shirt and grinned widely. Orion didn’t have freckles like Gray or Lyra; instead his skin was pale and smooth like Malfoy’s. And, Merlin, he seemed awfully tall for his age. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. They weren’t gray like Malfoy’s or brown like her own. His eyes were a startling blue. She instantly thought of Ron, Percy, Bill, and her father.

“Mum-my?” Orion called in a sing-song voice.

She realized she hadn’t been listening to anything he had said.

“Yes, darling?” Ginny replied tentatively, her hand reaching up on its own accord and running through Orion’s hair.

“Can you make waffles? Dad is going to ruin breakfast,” he inquired, brutally honest.

She was pretty sure she heard Malfoy huff in the background.

“Breakfast is already almost done, Orion,” Malfoy answered for Ginny. “Make sure the plates are set up correctly on the table, will you? Gray, go help your brother.”

Gray didn’t need to be told twice. The two boys raced out of the kitchen. Lyra skipped over to Ginny, grabbing her hand, and pulling her over to Malfoy.

“Did you get me anything?” Lyra asked Ginny. “A present? Or a treat?”

Malfoy snorted in response and it shocked Ginny. She wasn’t sure she had ever heard him snort before. A smile lingered on Malfoy’s lips as he glanced over at Lyra. The pan on the stove flipped the two eggs onto a large plate beside it, already filled with other cooked eggs. 

“She was at the doctor’s, Lyra, not on holiday,” Malfoy reminded her. “You should be giving her gifts.”

Lyra tugged at Ginny’s hand.

“Mummy, I did make you something to help you feel better,” Lyra told her. “Some drawings I left in my room.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Ginny said, warming at the little girl’s innocent smile.

It was very odd to be staring down at a child who looked exactly like she did when she was younger. Did Malfoy feel that way every time he looked at Gray? 

“But Mungo’s has a gift shop!” Lyra continued.

Malfoy turned to his daughter. The plate of eggs and several jugs of pumpkin juice rose off the counter and began floating out of the kitchen, following the path the two boys had taken.

“And how do you know that?” he asked, looking around to make sure everything proper was out in the dining room. 

“From when me and mummy went to see mummy’s friend,” Lyra proclaimed, hopping from one foot to the other.

She didn’t release Ginny’s hand as she went and grabbed Malfoy’s. Her cheeks flushed when she met Malfoy’s eyes but he didn’t hold her gaze for long, instead turning his attention to his daughter.

“What friend?” Malfoy asked.

“Luna,” Lyra told him. “She was very sad.”

Malfoy’s head snapped up in surprise. Ginny had taken Lyra to go see Luna? Was Luna okay? When was this? Panic began to build in Ginny and she wasn’t sure why. Releasing Lyra’s hand, she turned away from Malfoy’s probing stare and tried to calm her breathing. 

“Run along, Lyra, find your seat,” Malfoy ordered behind Ginny.

They were silent in the kitchen but Ginny could hear waves of giggles and conversation coming from the dining room. When the panic finally subsided, Ginny turned around to find Malfoy leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“When did you take Lyra to see Luna?” He sounded as emotionless as he had been the previous day.

Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed yet she shook her head. If she didn’t remember her own children, how could he expect her to remember some visit she took to St. Mungo’s to see Luna?

“I don’t know,” she admitted, hating this whole situation again.

Something obviously had bothered Malfoy over the fact that she went to go see Luna. But what? 

Malfoy studied her a while longer before sighing. He ran a hand through his hair, and the icy exterior he briefly displayed melted away to the man she had been dealing with since morning. It was startling how quickly he could change.

“Of course,” he said, his voice low. “Forgive me, I forgot about… Are you hungry?”

Ginny bit her lip and noticed that Malfoy’s eyes were attracted to the movement. She fought the urge to lick them self-consciously.

“Starving.”

He nodded and, together, they left the kitchen.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

The day flew by in a blur. Breakfast had been, in short, disastrous. Orion despised Malfoy’s lack of cooking skills, barely eating half his eggs and begging for waffles. Gray didn’t seem to hate eggs like he had claimed, sneakily stealing the rest of Orion’s food so he wouldn’t get in trouble with Malfoy. Ginny noticed Lyra drop pieces of her eggs for Witherwings, who seemed to have a permanent station underneath the young girl’s chair. It was true, though, that the eggs were rather plain and dry. But, if Orion’s constant badgering for Ginny to make waffles was any indication, it appeared that Malfoy rarely cooked for his family.

After breakfast Lyra wanted to draw upstairs, Orion wanted to go flying on his broomstick outside, and Gray wanted Ginny to finish reading him a book she had apparently started the other day. As Ginny fumbled with what to say, for all the children seemed to look to her for what were permitted to do, Malfoy offered to take Orion outside as long as Lyra drew in the library while Ginny read to Gray. The trio of children had accepted the answer, and all ran in different directions.

Most of the day had been spent in front of the fire in the library. Lyra was content with drawing at a table by the window, and Gray watched Ginny with unwavering devotion as she read to him. When Gray had run to the bathroom at one point, Ginny had wandered over to the window to see if she could find Orion and Malfoy. She could only assume how cold it was outside but she wasn’t too worried over them. She had watched Malfoy use two heating charms on Orion as he helped the boy button his jacket. The moment she did spot them, she could see the pink of Malfoy’s cheeks. He almost blended in with the wintery surroundings, the trees all bare and black, the sky as white as snow, the ground gray and dead.

Yolly the house-elf made an appearance as well. Ginny had been more than afraid the house-elf would be like Dobby, a mistreated creature caring for the Malfoy family. She had been wrong. Yolly was vibrant and dressed in a well-cared tea cozy, bringing a plate of food and drinks for Ginny, Lyra, and Gray around lunchtime. The children adored her, and she stayed for a short moment, expressing relief that Ginny was okay after her accident that _“Mizter Malfoy”_ told her about. The elf then stoked the fire, before disappearing with a _pop_.

She heard Malfoy and Orion reenter the house at some point but they didn’t show their faces for another hour. Eventually, Orion stumbled in, cheeks pink and nose runny, and managed two sentences before falling asleep in the chair that Malfoy had slept in the past night. Malfoy checked on Lyra and Gray, who had taken to entertaining each other with some children’s books they pulled off the shelf, before departing to the study to work.

He didn’t seem too worried about Ginny watching over the three children by herself, and she began to feel better about the situation. The children clearly didn’t notice anything off about her, though she was lucky that they were well entertained by books and each other. She could watch them by herself and, if the Healer was right, it would only be a few more days until her memory returned.

It was nearing dinner time when Ginny heard the tap, tap on the library window. Orion woke at the noise, rubbing his eyes as he squinted around.

“Owl?” he murmured, sleep thickening his words. “Is there an owl here?”

“Owl!” Lyra cried out, jumping to her feet.

Gray shot a disgruntled look at her back as several books, that had been piled in her lap, tumbled to the ground. Ginny bit back a smile, following Lyra to the window. Turning the lock, Ginny pushed it open. A large, black owl flew in, landing on the chair that Orion still sat in. He squealed in excitement, jumping up and reaching out to pet the creature with little hesitation. A cool breeze drifted in from the open window and Ginny shut it. 

All three children surrounded the owl and it hooted, pleased with the attention. Its eyes were gold and beautiful and Lyra cooed at the sight of them. Ginny smiled and reached out to stroke the owl.

“Gentle, now,” she warned the children. “Not all owls are as kind as this one.”

Lyra nodded solemnly as Gray let out a single, loud laugh. Reaching down, Ginny untied the package and letter from the owl’s leg. She glanced at the mantle above the fireplace and found the little jar of owl treats. Placing one treat in each child’s hand, she let them feed the owl before she reopened the window and let it fly away.

“When can I get an owl?” Orion inquired. 

“When you head off to Hogwarts, I suppose,” Ginny replied easily, lifting the package to inspect it. 

It was for her.

“Is it a present?” Lyra asked eagerly. “A present for me?”

“I’m afraid not, darling,” Ginny told her, shooting her a warm smile. “Just boring stuff for me.”

Lyra scrunched up her nose before skipping back to Gray. Their attention was diverted again. Gray had reopened the books that had shut when Lyra abruptly stood up and he was pointing at pictures for her, telling her a story she couldn’t read herself. Orion pulled at Ginny’s shirt to get her attention.

“Can I go to my room and finish writing letters for Lorcan and Lysander?”

Ginny nodded, distracted as she took a seat on the windowsill to open the letter. The writing was familiar and she smiled when she realized who it was. Maggie. When she had awoken on the Quidditch field, she could remember her confusion as she looked at Maggie. Was she sick? No, no, silly girl, she had simply aged ten years. Ginny could laugh at herself now. 

_Poppet,_

_I’m relieved to hear you’re alright after what happened the other day. I was worried sick, of course. I had the girls collect your things from the locker room and I figured you’d like it all back. I’d like to come visit you whenever you’re free. Write me back._

_Maggie_

Sweeping the letter to the side, Ginny unwrapped the package. There were several pieces of parchment, a broken quill, and a jacket that looked like it cost far too much money. No wedding ring. She sighed, disappointed without knowing why. Her bare ring finger still bothered her and Malfoy’s reaction to her questioning its disappearance bothered her even more. Did she have the ring hidden somewhere after Malfoy delivered the divorce papers? Or did he take it back, finished with her and them and everything they had created?

Ginny had rather hoped she had left it at the Holyhead’s training session.

Picking up the parchment, she saw that she had been writing on it. Ah, yes, because she no longer played Quidditch. She wrote articles on Quidditch.

The first piece of parchment listed the girls, their ages, and their positions. On the next piece of parchment, she had begun to write about a player name Roe, and her fine Keeper skills, when it abruptly cut off. A large blot of ink stained the page. Tracing the ink with her finger, Ginny stared.

_How could he do this to me? Did he not care anymore? When did he stop caring? How did I let this happen?_

Ginny leaned back and closed her eyes. The words, the feeling of despair, washed over her so suddenly that she found it hard to breathe. Only the cold draft from the window kept her grounded as she tried to remember something.

_He was going to leave her._

_He was going to leave her and there was nothing she could do about it, he wasn’t interested, did he even love her anymore?_

_The Quidditch pitch loomed around her and she could hear the girls yelling, calling plays to each other as they flew. A harsh wind whipped her hair around her face, stinging her cheeks. Despite the wind, however, she balanced easily on the broom. Ginny should be writing, she should be taking notes… But she could hardly focus._

_Draco had signed the divorce papers and was going to leave her._

_Someone screamed and Ginny looked up, dropping the parchment that she had barely written on. A Bludger sped towards her-_

“Gin? Ginny?”

_Draco didn’t love her anymore._

“Ginny! Hey, hey.”

Ginny opened her eyes to find Malfoy crouched over her, one hand on her cheek and the other cupping her neck. She took a large breath and Malfoy sighed, his eyes trained on her face.

“There you are,” he said softly.

His thumb brushed her cheek bone and Ginny shivered. 

“Mummy?” 

Her gaze dropped to the side, and Ginny saw Gray and Lyra’s worried faces.

“Are you okay, mummy?” Gray questioned, his hands reaching out to clutch at her leg. “Are you still sick?”

“Do you need the doctor again?” Lyra asked. 

“I’m going to take mummy to bed,” Malfoy announced, sliding off the windowsill and bending down low so he was at eye level with the children. “She needs some more sleep. Can you both stay here and be good, while I take care of her?”

“Of course!” Gray cried out, puffing out his chest. “I’ll watch Lyra.”

Malfoy nodded and turned back to Ginny. She felt weak, so incredibly weak… and so incredibly distraught. The horror and fear and grief that she had experienced on the Quidditch pitch was still here with her, burrowing itself deep within her body. Ginny hadn’t experienced such sorrow since… since Fred died. And she felt it over Malfoy and the fact that he was going to leave her.

She wanted to sob.

Malfoy seemed to notice her unraveling and, without a word, leaned down and picked her up with one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. He said something to Lyra and Gray but she wasn’t sure what. Then, they moved. Ginny buried her face in his chest, embarrassed and ill and lost. She could hear his heartbeat.

He took each step gently to get upstairs, holding her tight in his arms.

Malfoy was going to leave her, he didn’t love her anymore, he had signed divorce papers, and…

He said something again and Ginny heard Orion’s faint cry, asking if she were okay. Then, Malfoy continued down the hallway. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut but they jolted open when Malfoy laid her down on a bed. She glanced around at their bedroom before finally meeting Malfoy’s gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She took a shuddering breath, nodding. What was she supposed to say? That she just remembered how much she didn’t want him to leave her, their marriage, the kids? That she wanted him to stay even though she didn’t remember loving him? Ginny sniffled, her nose runny.

“Gray was rather worried when he came and got me,” Malfoy continued. 

Ginny raised a hand to brush the hair from her face, noting that it shook. Malfoy saw it -- of course he did -- and frowned. He stood abruptly from the bed and Ginny cried out.

“Wait, wait.”

Malfoy stopped, eyebrows raising.

“I should send for a Healer. Or I could--”

He cut himself off when she shook her head. She knew she should tell him to go to the children and send for a Healer and leave her be. That’s what parents were supposed to do; one went and made sure the children were okay while the other figured out their own problems. But Ginny still felt the horror inside of her. She so very badly did not want Malfoy to leave.

_Please don’t leave me, please._

She could hear her voice saying that in her head, she could see herself staring at Malfoy, she could… She could hardly keep her head straight.

“Malfoy, I--”

What could she possibly say? Ginny wanted to cry again and the tears sprung up unwillingly. He took a seat on the bed next to her.

“It’s fine,” she finally said. “Go back to the children, I’m fine. I… it was just… I didn’t mean to worry you or the children.”

He didn’t appear convinced. Then again, Ginny still had trouble reading him. With a sigh, Malfoy stood. Running a hand through his hair again, frustrated, he glanced at her before turning and walking to the  
closet. Malfoy waved his wand and a chest materialized from the dark corner. She watched as he opened it and started pulling things from within. Everything was done in silence.

Finally he found what he was looking for, and returned to the bed. He handed her the bottle he had grabbed, and Ginny turned it over with shaky hands. _Sleeping Draught_ , the bottle read. She looked up at him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Malfoy nodded before waving his wand again. With a pop, Yolly appeared. Ginny stared at the house-elf as she sent large smiles to both Ginny and Malfoy.

“Mizter Malfoy, Missus Malfoy,” Yolly greeted. “Hows can I help?”

Malfoy’s head jerked in the direction of the corridor.

“Fix the children dinner and put them to bed soon after,” he told her briskly. “I’m going to stay in here with my wife; she’s still not right after the accident.”

Yolly gasped before bowing. She left with another _pop_ , never questioning Malfoy’s order. Ginny hugged the potion close to her as Malfoy wordlessly shrugged off his jumper and then his shoes.

“Don’t worry over Yolly,” he said suddenly. “Granger would never let us have a house-elf without inspecting every part of her employment three times over. Yolly gets paid and is only here before lunch till after dinner. And she’s been here since your pregnancy with Orion, so the children know her well.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Malfoy climbed into the bed beside her and Ginny observed, breathing hitched.

“What are you doing?” she asked uncertainly.

He looked over at her, annoyed.

“Take that potion, will you?” 

Ginny turned the potion over in her hands. She didn’t want to take it. The idea of falling asleep next to Malfoy was extremely unappealing and… at the same time, the idea warmed her.

“Ginny,” Malfoy began, turning his full body to get her attention. “You need to sleep. You’re tired, I can see it, and I’m sure the sleep you’ve been getting the last few nights hasn’t been your best. This will help you.”

She knew this and she nodded in agreement. Yet, Ginny couldn’t take it. After a moment, when Malfoy’s stare was becoming too much, Ginny spoke.

“Will you stay with me?” she paused. “The whole night?”

_Please don’t leave me, please, he’s going to leave me._ Ginny could hear the words, frantic and upset, in a mantra inside her head. She knew he had told Yolly he was staying with her but she needed him to say it to her. And she absolutely hated that she needed to hear him say it, that the overwhelming feeling of panic that came with the flash of a memory (Draco was going to leave her) made her need Malfoy here.

“Yes,” he said simply, easily, without hesitation. 

Pulling off the top of the bottle, Ginny didn’t look at Malfoy as she drank it. She wasn’t sure she could handle whatever expression that was on his face. The liquid was smooth and slid down her throat effortlessly. He took the empty bottle from her when the last drop touched her tongue, and by the time he placed it on the nightstand, she was asleep.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a special thanks to Maya-nii, my beta, for making this chapter wonderful and for helping bring these characters to life. Please continuing reviewing, it brightens my life!


	4. Day Four, Part One

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

For the first time in a while, nothing roused Ginny in the middle of her sleep. The bedroom was quiet, save for the soft breathing of the person next to her. Sunlight did not stream in; the curtains had been pulled closed the night before. Ginny awoke feeling refreshed and content. 

In spite of first seeing Draco Malfoy once she opened her eyes. 

Ginny didn’t stir, for fear of waking him, but their closeness on the bed startled her. She remembered her sleeping position after she drank the sleeping potion the night before, and she certainly hadn’t been curled on her side facing Malfoy. There was no way she had been this close to him, barely a hair’s breadth between them. And Ginny was pretty sure her hand hadn’t been reaching out to him — almost there but not quite.

Yet, she still didn’t move herself right away even though she knew she could be quiet enough to get out of bed without waking him.

There were many things she was learning about Malfoy that she hadn’t expected to, over the past forty-eight hours. He was guarded and cruel to her when provoked, but what could was unknown. She felt like she was tiptoeing around a drowsy beast where, at any moment, she could step on an issue that would awaken him. Malfoy felt no need to explain to her why he was upset about things even though she was his wife. However, he could also be surprisingly apologetic about his sharp tongue. There was even a kindness in his eyes that she didn’t ever expect to see.

And now, as he slept, she could see what he was like without worry. His blond hair, so white that it was comparable to snow, fell over his face loosely. It seemed his lips were in a permanent slight frown for, even now, they twisted down in his sleep. Despite that, he somehow looked young and innocent. His body was splayed out on the bed like he had been hit with a curse — Ginny wasn’t sure how he was as comfortable sleeping on top of the blankets as he was. 

Like Ginny, he had one hand reaching out towards her. It rested above the covers but over where her left hand, cradled between her breasts and warm under the blanket, was.

Ginny sighed.

The horror from the night before, the memory that had come unwittingly to her, was still fresh in her mind. She _had_ loved Malfoy. Or, rather, three days ago, she had, and was absolutely devastated when he handed her the divorce papers. He didn’t seem like he wanted a divorce now, though. Or, perhaps, she was reading too far into it. Malfoy was just being polite and kind to her. Their household was not just the two of them, but also three very young children who believed their parents happy and in love.

He didn’t leave her last night when she had asked him not to. 

Hesitantly, Ginny found herself reaching out to him. She pressed her fingers to his extended hand, feeling the soft skin beneath her touch. Ginny had never willingly touched Malfoy before — not like this, not even the softest brush of hand to hand. His fingers were long, curling in slightly underneath her fingertips. Slowly, she traced the line on his palm, ending at his wrist. His hands were neither clean nor perfect. It wasn’t hard to see slight scars and callouses on his skin, likely from his years of playing Quidditch at Hogwarts and... and the war.

They made him more human to her.

She snatched her hand back at the thought, and turned away from him. The last thing she wanted was for him to wake to her stroking his hand. Especially since he cared for her after her little stint the night before. Her face burned as she attempted to untangle herself from the covers and climb out of bed. Did he think she was foolish? Or did he chalk it all up to her head injury? Not that that was too far a reach, since it was her head injury that caused her to forget everything and be unprepared for random flashbacks.

Was this how it was going to be the next few days? Constant and sudden flashbacks that left her feeling weak and crazy? What she had felt the night before, after reading Maggie’s letter, might as well have left a physical scar on her from how it still lingered. 

As soon as her feet touched the cold floor, Ginny relaxed. Unbeknownst to her, at the same time, a peek of gray appeared between Malfoy’s eyelids.

“Ginny,” he groaned, sleep coloring her name, so it sounded like a whine.

She stilled, surprised. Ginny had made sure to be extremely quiet while leaving the bed. How did she wake him?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He rolled over to her side of the bed, where the covers had been thrown off to the side. Without opening his eyes further, Malfoy slid under the sheets and pulled them up to his chin. 

“Cover hog,” Malfoy grumbled before becoming still again.

Ginny waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t. His breathing evened out, his body relaxed, and she saw his eyelids began to flutter as he dreamt. She bit her lip, unable to stop staring at him. 

Had he called her a cover hog?

Ginny started to smile. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud before turning and tiptoeing to the loo. All she wanted now was a long, quiet shower.

The routine came to her easily, as it had two days ago. Her hands grabbed bottles of hair products without thinking twice, massaging the liquids into her shorter-than-she-remembered locks. Next came the deliciously fragrant mango and coconut body wash. Once again, her fingers traced the lines of her pregnancy, but now she had faces to place with each line. 

Orion; pleading for waffles — blue eyes reminding her so much of the men in her family, for neither she nor Malfoy had eyes the color of the ocean.

Gray; smiling up at her from her bedside — the light dusting of freckles on his face reminding her that he was very much hers just as he was Malfoy’s.

Lyra; twirling in a circle — her red curls boasting to the world that she was her mother’s daughter.

After the shower, she continued the routine. Applied the face cream. Brushed her hair and dried it before brushing her teeth. Then, she stared at her reflection.

She hadn’t changed much physically, she knew that. Yet this was the face that Malfoy used to tease in Hogwarts, that Harry used to kiss before bed, that the children yearned for throughout the day, that Malfoy stared at while trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. The freckles were the same, the mouth the same, the eyes the same. 

Unfortunately, too much _had_ changed.

Ginny looked away and opened the bathroom door quietly. She had never brought clothes in with her, and knowing Malfoy was asleep helped her decide to not pull the dirty ones back on again. The covers were still tucked under his chin, and Ginny moved stealthily to the closet to find something to wear. Pushing aside the dress robes and dresses, she found a plain shirt. Unthinkingly, she grabbed a jumper she hadn’t noticed before.

It was soft and expensive and a deep emerald green. Ginny turned it over in her hands, lifting it against her cheek. She would have never bought the jumper for herself, despite how pretty she found it. Simple yet elegant and… yes, again, definitely expensive. She yearned to wear it now that it was in her hands. Tucking it under her arm, along with her shirt, Ginny spotted a pair of slacks before searching for panties and a bra.

The idea of Malfoy waking again and discovering her in the towel caused her to peer over her shoulder several times. Thankfully, he remained asleep. She changed in the bathroom, relishing in the feeling of lavish fabric over her skin. Lifting it to her nose, she breathed in the scent. 

Suddenly, she felt much better. Normal. Well rested. Like a real person, and not someone who was missing years of her memories. Ginny exited the loo and squinted at the bed, hoping Malfoy was dead asleep so that she wouldn’t have to talk to him about the previous night. To her dismay, much like the many wishes she had placed the past few days, Malfoy wasn’t asleep. He was no longer in bed. Ginny looked around cautiously, but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

Ginny wrapped her arms around herself before deciding to leave the bedroom. The corridor was quiet and, when she pressed her ear against Lyra’s bedroom door, she could hear soft snores. She repeated the action with Gray and Orion’s bedroom doors, hearing similar sounds. Perturbed, she continued towards the foyer. 

Now, the still portraits that hung along the staircase held more meaning to her. The photographs showed various years of her life. Children she created. Smiles that were directed towards her. Her fingers brushed across a toddler-aged Orion’s face in one picture, where he particularly resembled Malfoy, a mischievous grin curling his lips. Her attention was promptly distracted by the sound of footsteps echoing somewhere distant, and the sharp aroma of coffee hitting her nose.

Ginny wandered to the kitchen, where she now knew Malfoy was. Despite not wanting to see him moments ago, she couldn’t imagine intentionally ignoring him now. Using her back to push the kitchen door open, Ginny mentally prepped herself, taking a deep breath, before turning to face her husband.

He looked over at her entrance, body angled away as he poured coffee into two mugs, face blank but body relaxed. When she offered him a tentative smile, he turned towards her. 

“Coffee?” 

Malfoy didn’t need an answer; a mug floated towards her, without spilling a drop, before she could open her mouth to reply. Ginny accepted it with a grimace. She had never been much of a coffee drinker,  
except for the few times Hermione had shoved it at her during study time at Hogwarts. He watched her as she warily brought it to her nose, and sniffed.

“Just drink it,” he ordered, taking the other mug and sipping without regard for its heat.

“Stop telling me what to do,” Ginny muttered, taking a seat.

“What?” Malfoy asked, gaze sharpening on her.

She shrugged innocently, meeting his gaze and smiling.

“Nothing, nothing,” she replied, lifting her mug to her mouth and sipping it without realizing she was doing exactly what he had told her to.

The taste of coffee was sharp on her tongue, and she fought to get the liquid down. Once the warm liquid slid down her throat, she found herself craving more. Maybe she did like coffee. How interesting.

Malfoy leaned against the wall, smirking as she took another sip. When she raised her eyebrows at him, he ignored her.

“I was thinking we could take a walk,” Malfoy suggested. “Around the garden, perhaps?”

Ginny glanced out the kitchen window. Said garden looked blindingly white, and cold. He wanted to go walk in that?

“Outside?” Ginny slowly said. 

Malfoy nodded.

“You’ll like it,” he promised.

He waited a beat before leaving the kitchen. Ginny could hear the words he didn’t say lingering in the air.

_You’ll like it. Just like the coffee._

Ginny groaned and jumped out of the seat, keeping the mug in her hands as she rushed after him. He was standing in front of a closet filled with robes and jackets, his mug floating lazily beside him. She bit her lip as she approached.

“What about the kids?” she asked.

“They’ll be fine,” Malfoy assured her. “They don’t wake for another hour. Heavy sleepers; one Weasley trait they all possess.”

Ginny snorted into her mug yet couldn’t deny that. Every Weasley slept like a rock, no matter the circumstances. 

On the other hand, the idea of leaving the sleeping children alone in the house made Ginny uneasy. Malfoy didn’t seem to care at all, however. He handed her a heavy, black robe, and she struggled to hold  
both the mug and the weight of the robe. Without looking, Malfoy waved his wand silently and her mug was tugged gently out of her grip. It floated beside her just as Malfoy’s did. Then, he turned his attention to her, plucking the robe out of her hands. She felt awkward as he shook out the cloak and stepped behind her.

As he brushed her hair to the side of her neck, Ginny found herself holding her breath. She couldn’t see him, and was afraid that she would blush furiously if she did. His fingers were soft against the sensitive skin of her neck, goosebumps rising on her arms from his touch. Ginny wanted to close her eyes, their close proximity doing something odd to her insides. When Malfoy started to hook the clasp, she reached up and did so herself. 

She took a step forward, turning around to face him, before she cleared her throat uneasily. Malfoy didn’t seem to mind, reaching for his own cloak from the closet, and shrugging it on. He waved his wand first at her, then himself, and a warm fuzziness settled over her. He handed her a pair of boots, and she tugged them on with a huff, wondering what to say. The silence wasn’t stilted, but it was by no means comfortable. Somehow, Ginny knew Malfoy wanted to talk to her. Probably about the night before.

“Malfoy,” she began. “I feel strange leaving the children here alone—”

“We’re only going to the gardens. Don’t fret,” he replied, not unkindly. 

He grabbed his floating mug, and she copied him, following him out the back door. A couple of days ago, she had rushed through it to get away from him and his harsh words. The brisk air fully hit Ginny in the face, and she stopped as though she had walked into a brick wall. Merlin, it was cold. Once again, Malfoy appeared unaffected. Ginny had shuffled awkwardly along the door, reluctant to follow him any further into the frosty abyss, when he turned to look at her.

His cheeks were already pink, the tip of his nose bright compared to the rest of his face, but his lips were turned into a smile. A smile directed at her. Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight. He seemed… more relaxed. She didn’t want to ruin that by asking to go back inside, to the fire. With a labored sigh, Ginny tugged the cloak around her tighter before stepping up to him. The moment she reached his side, he resumed walking. 

The yard was mostly bare. Snow crunched under her feet while she eyed the empty landscape. Ginny knew that there had been a garden in the front of the house, covered and ready for the next season. However, she could only assume that the garden was for vegetables and herbs since the one in the back was full of trees, naked branches, and bushes, shaped and pretty despite the frigid winter. Several benches were scattered throughout the garden, and Ginny imagined the area to be beautiful in the spring, summer, and autumn. 

She could almost envision all the different types of flowers planted here — in a range of colors that she didn’t think existed. Ginny could see Neville coming over and sitting in the garden with her and Malfoy, offering advice on the best plants to grow and how to keep them alive. The children liked the flowers, and Neville, and would play by his feet as he taught them about the different species that flourished around them. The vision was shaken from her mind’s eye when she almost slipped on some snow.

Had that been a memory? Or just a thought? 

Malfoy drank from his mug, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. 

Ginny wasn’t sure what she wanted to say to him now that there was nothing to do except talk to each other. _Thank you for staying with me? Thank you for not rushing me off to St. Mungo’s after my little panic attack?_ Her cheeks reddened at the idea of thanking Malfoy for performing his husbandly duties. It was all very silly, really, but Ginny couldn’t help her inability to speak what she was thinking. When he realized she was incapable of starting the conversation, he took it upon himself to fill the silence. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked her softly.

She shrugged but he wasn’t peering at her anymore, his gaze focused on the somber sky, so she had to speak. 

“Much better.”

Now, he looked at her. His face was pinker than before, and it made her smile. He looked like a child, like Gray, and a rush of affection hit her. She gnawed at her bottom lip in an attempt to hide her smile though she had a feeling he had noticed it. The concern didn’t completely leave his face yet.

“Was there— was there something you’d like to talk to me about?” Malfoy inquired, sounding uncertain.

Ginny stared at him, surprised. They were a team now — she had asked him to support and help her — she knew that. But she had never viewed Malfoy as a confidante. She supposed, at one point in her life, he had been. Before the accident, before the divorce papers, before whatever that had gone wrong in their relationship. 

She tried to read him, just as she had many times over the past few days. If they used to share secrets, if they used to joke around and gossip and tell each other about their day, if they used to fight with each other or cry together then surely she could read him as easily as he could read her. Somewhere deep in her mind, she knew this man.

Although his face was expressionless, his eyes were earnest. That was all Ginny could read. Yesterday, she had decided that she wouldn’t tell him about the divorce papers. Even though she couldn’t read Malfoy, she had a feeling that their tentative friendship would be ruined once she brought up the divorce papers. She wasn’t ready for that — not yet.

“I received a letter from Maggie last night. And I… I remembered events from right before the Bludger hit me,” she told him, neither lying nor telling the truth. “It freaked me out. But it’s nothing to worry about, really. I just overreacted.”

If he could somehow tell she wasn’t honest, he didn’t press it. Instead, he ran his free hand over his face. Ginny watched the action curiously, unable to help from noticing the little scars on his hands. Where had those scars come from? Had she traced each one at some point? Did he tell her the story about each mark? 

“We both have several engagements today that we’ve previously agreed to attend,” Malfoy said, cutting into her thoughts.

Ginny turned towards him, startled by the abrupt topic change. 

“What? Doing what?” Ginny croaked. “With who?”

Malfoy smirked down at her. Merlin, he was tall. Orion clearly got his height from his father. Ginny wasn’t short by any means — standing a little under Charlie, who was the shortest of the Weasley boys — but standing beside Malfoy made her feel incredibly tiny. How had she not noticed that yet? Huffing at the realization, and his obvious triumph over their height difference, Ginny crossed her arms.

“During the holidays, we tend to keep ourselves rather busy,” he admitted, amusement palpable in his tone.

“That sounds horrible,” she grumbled. 

All she wanted to do was hide inside their home even though she had no idea exactly what they had planned for the day. She glanced over at Malfoy as she sipped her coffee, trying to keep her face as neutral as he usually did. To be honest, she wished she was more surprised that she would rather stay at home with the children. But, prior to reading Maggie’s letter, she had rather enjoyed the company in the house. Malfoy included.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re the one who made the plans,” Malfoy told her.

She breathed in sharply and his smirk grew.

“ _I_ made the plans? I _hate_ making plans. I would never—”

Ginny stopped when Malfoy’s smirk stretched his mouth further. He resembled the Cheshire cat from the book Gray made her read to him yesterday.

“You do have six brothers,” Malfoy pointed out, never losing his smugness. “And you like to make sure we see each of them and all their spawn this time of year.”

She found herself smiling back at him in spite of his insult of her beloved nieces and nephews.

“Okay, that does sound like me,” Ginny admitted grudgingly. “So hit me with it. What are our plans today?”

They continued walking side by side. No longer were they in the garden, moving to explore the yard. Ginny was aware that they played many Quidditch games in the yard, though she wasn’t sure how she came to the conclusion. The yard was huge and vacant. In the summer, it would be the perfect spot for her brothers to come over and play a quick game. 

“Do we play Quidditch back here?” she spoke her thoughts aloud.

She stopped walking so that she could look around the yard with more ease. Malfoy was nodding, his eyes on her.

“Yeah,” he replied. “We have plenty of brooms in the house.”

“Oh, I remember seeing them.”

The silence between them was comfortable as Ginny tried to imagine the Quidditch games played in their yard. She licked her lips and brought the mug to her lips, letting the steam warm her cold nose.

“You have lunch with your mother once a week,” Malfoy said, drying and shrinking his empty mug, and tucking it into the pocket of his pants. “Usually some of your sisters-in-law show up. Luckily for you, today is that day.”

“Fantastic,” Ginny muttered sarcastically, copying Malfoy’s actions.

The coffee was making her stomach feel funny, despite the welcomed caffeine. Or, more likely, it was the idea of facing her mum, and family, for lunch.

“Your mother isn’t likely to let you skive off,” Malfoy informed her dryly. “I’ve received more owls from her during the past two days than I did throughout all your pregnancies combined.”

Ginny giggled.

“Is she terribly worried?” she asked.

Malfoy’s eyebrows rose in amusement.

“When has Molly Weasley not been terribly, horribly anxious over her children?” he responded mockingly. 

Then he shrugged, his gaze shifting away from hers when her eyes narrowed at his words.

“Just concerned,” Malfoy added, voice softer. “For you and the children, of course.”

_And for you_ , Ginny thought gently. Her mum clearly favored Malfoy. Even though he wasn’t willing to admit it right now, or if he was simply ignorant to the fact, Molly Weasley was worried that Ginny was going to ruin the relationship or strain Malfoy horribly over the week. The sudden thought made her uncomfortable. 

“So, lunch with my mum,” Ginny pressed on, ignoring the twist of her stomach when Malfoy inclined his head, his eyes finding hers again. “Then what?”

“There’s a Ministry holiday ball tonight,” he continued. “I should’ve told you about this earlier, but I wasn’t thinking.”

His breath was visible as he spoke. It made him look strangely magical, blending in with their misty surroundings. 

“A Ministry ball?” Ginny said, snapping out of her haze. “Tonight?”

“Hmm.” Malfoy hummed in agreement, deep in his throat. “After what happened last night… I’d prefer you stay home, for your comfort. But, at the same time, to be alone—”

“With the children might be a risk,” Ginny finished for him, nodding to herself.

She wasn’t offended by what he was saying. It was his right as the father of their three kids to worry over them. And Ginny had had an attack of sorts less than twelve hours ago, leaving the children worried and frantic for an adult who could help them. 

Malfoy stared at her hard before continuing.

“I’m not excited to go either, to be honest. But it’s necessary. My mother can come and help with the children. Or, if you’d prefer, I can ask your mother to come by. The Ministry’s balls tend to boggle the minds of normal people; I can’t imagine what it would do to you.” 

She rolled her eyes at his words since they weren’t cruel or mocking. Ginny was pretty sure he was teasing her in some odd fashion.

“And you can’t stay home with us?” Ginny asked without thinking.

An emotion Ginny couldn’t describe colored Malfoy’s face at her question. He opened his mouth then shut it. Ginny noticed that his fingers were tapping quickly against his thigh. His obvious surprise and discomfort made her feel awkward. Was the question really that horrible? Did they normally not like spending that much time together?

Ginny wanted to revoke his obligation to reply — she had not meant to make him uncomfortable — when he finally spoke. 

“I’m afraid, because I couldn’t stay in the States, I’m obligated to go.”

“Do you like going to these Ministry balls?” 

She was genuinely curious. When Ginny was younger, she could remember seeing photographs of Ministry balls in the Daily Prophet, along with the latest gossip. The attendees had always looked so beautiful. As she grew older and learned more of the ways of society, she had lost interest. Politics and war had been shoved at her at such a young age that, by the time she was old enough to actually meddle in them, she was over it all. Harry certainly wasn’t going to waste his time going to a ball. There had been many mornings in bed when Harry would be shifting through mail, disintegrating any invitations. Any chance she had at going to one disappeared with a wave of Harry’s wand.

She tried to appear unconcerned when his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sometimes,” he replied. 

_Sometimes._ There was something in the way he said it that piqued Ginny’s interest. She couldn’t read Malfoy — not yet — but she was beginning to get used to the way his words curved when he felt a certain way or how differently he spoke with her. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and Ginny wanted to learn more. 

“Do I like going to these Ministry balls?” Ginny asked.

This time, Malfoy turned to face her completely. 

“Sometimes,” Malfoy said.

_Sometimes._ Something had urged the words out of her mouth, something that poked and prodded at her mind, and made a chill run up and down her back. Ginny wasn’t sure she truly wanted to go to the Ministry ball if she were honest with herself. She didn’t even want to go to lunch with her mum, in fear of all the questions that would be thrown at her throughout the meal. But this was different. Malfoy didn’t seem like he wanted to go to the ball; he was obligated to because of the accident, and the fact that he had missed a business trip.

She owed him.

“I want to go with you.”

Malfoy’s jaw dropped open in shock. Eventually, he collected himself and cleared his throat, lifting his head away from her as she kept her eyes on him. She wasn’t sure why she had said that. Besides, his reaction both amused and dismayed her. It had clearly thrown him off. Throughout their conversation, several things Ginny said had surprised Malfoy. 

“I must insist that you stay home, Gin—”

“Do you like when I go to these events with you?” Ginny interrupted. She was surprised he hadn’t snapped at her for doing so. “Do you prefer the Ministry events when I go with you?”

Malfoy took a deep breath before allowing himself a slight nod.

“I do.” The words were so twisted with emotion that they sounded as though Ginny had dragged them from his throat.

Her stomach tightened, but not in a horrible way. If her presence could help him get through the night then she would willingly experience the torture of people she barely remembered talking to her. For him. For his kindness that night. For her worrying him while she stayed at Harry’s. 

“And do I like it when you go to events with me?” she pressed.

She wasn’t sure if she ever went to events, however. Ginny was truly grasping at straws, but she had a feeling, deep down, that she received invites to Ministry balls, too.

He could lie to her now, of course. Ginny had no idea how much she enjoyed Malfoy’s company. On the other hand, Ginny had a feeling he wouldn’t be dishonest. Malfoy’s hand twitched at her question, stilling its repetitive tapping against his thigh. She briefly wondered if he had wanted to touch her. His words stopped the whirling thoughts in her mind. 

“Yes,” Malfoy said slowly. “I believe so.”

“Then it’s decided,” she proclaimed, almost teasing in her dramatic fashion. “I’m sure my mum wouldn’t mind taking the children or even staying here. And if something happens like last night, I’ll just head straight home.”

Malfoy didn’t respond. His gray eyes remained on her face, and she knew he was thinking, that his mind was reeling with thoughts that she was not privy to. Last night, Malfoy had taken care of Ginny when she was weak and ill and in trouble. And that feeling — that horrible loss that presented itself with the memory on the Quidditch pitch — was still deep within her body, mixed with her blood, mingled with each breath she exhaled. She _wanted_ to go with him. Ginny wanted to pay him back for what he had done for her.

“Perhaps we should go inside?” Malfoy whispered, words catching in his throat. “Your face is getting splotchy.”

Ginny raised a hand to her cheek in surprise before narrowing her eyes at him.

“You were the one who wanted to come outside,” she pointed out as they began their walk back towards the house. 

From the backyard, the house looked magnificent surrounded by snow and gray clouds. She couldn’t wait to step back inside and warm up.

“Yes, but it was for your gratification,” Malfoy responded.

She wished to speak, to deny his words, but couldn’t. Ginny did feel better after the walk. Though she couldn’t pinpoint if it was the coffee that made her feel better, or the cool, winter air, or a full night’s sleep with the help of Sleeping Draught, but… it was Malfoy who had made sure each of those events happened. 

Instead of scowling at him like she wanted, she found herself beaming. 

“Fine, I’ll give you that one,” she relented. “But don’t get used to it— oh! Is that one of our cats too?”

A cat had darted across the lawn. It took a second to glance at Malfoy and Ginny before running away, not overly concerned by them. She would have been worried for the cat in the cold but its fur appeared thick enough, and it jumped through the snow as gracefully as Harry flew on a broom. Malfoy scoffed.

“That’s Marion Marie Margaret Malfoy,” Malfoy told Ginny.

He sounded absolutely ridiculous reciting the name, and Ginny snorted.

“Lyra’s cat?” Ginny questioned.

“Lyra’s cat,” he confirmed. 

They continued their trek back to the house, though Ginny’s gaze followed the large, white cat as it continued to leap across the yard.

“Gin,” Malfoy said suddenly. “I want you to only come to the Ministry event tonight if you really want to, if you really feel up to it.”

She let thoughts of the cat slip from her mind as she turned her attention back to the man beside her. He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring up at their home, his hands tucked in his pockets and his eyes piercing.

“Malfoy—”

“Just think about it over lunch,” he cut her off this time. “Don’t feel guilty about it.”

He was giving her an out, and she wondered if he really thought she hated his company that much. Ginny sighed before nodding, faltering at the idea of trying to climb over the wall they had built between each other however long ago. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Upon their return, Ginny and Malfoy split the duties of waking the children. Orion had been the hardest by far and Malfoy, with glee marring his face, had innocently asked Ginny to wake the red-haired boy. Ginny should have guessed it was a trick, but the realization didn’t hit until her patience had already worn thin ten minutes into her babbling to the sleeping boy. Then, suddenly, the children were alive with an excessive amount of energy. 

She wanted to cover her ears with her hands yet didn’t want to show any signs of weakness around them. Malfoy, surprisingly, was handling the chaos and destruction with ease. Or with as much ease as he had ever displayed. Ginny was almost sure his face had developed a twitch sometime between pulling Orion off a bookshelf that the kid had somehow climbed halfway up, and putting out a fire that Lyra had accidentally set when Gray wouldn’t tell her where all the cats were in the house.

Firstly, Ginny was puzzled at how Gray managed to keep track of the three cats on the property, and why Lyra had expected him to know so. Furthermore, Ginny hadn’t witnessed a child’s unrestrained magic since her childhood. The first real memory she had of having no control of her magic was when she was about six or seven, and her brothers wouldn’t let her fly with them. She was certainly too little, but Ron had only been a year older and he was allowed to — though he was seated behind George. And she had stormed out to the broom shed once they reentered the Burrow, cheeks pink with joy, and tried to wrench open the door but failed. In a fit of rage, she had screamed and pop the lock came undone, and the doors swung open, knocking her onto her butt.

There had been other occasions, of course, when her magic had exploded out of her. She had shattered all the glassware in the kitchen when her mum denied her sweets. Ginny had been very young then and didn’t remember the incident although her mum liked to remind her every now and then. The next occasion was when Percy had been giving her a lecture about playing in the dirt, and she had managed to singe his eyebrows in response. Her mum had not been as amused about that.

From Malfoy’s reaction to Lyra setting a fire in the middle of the room (“Lyra, this is the third time and you know your nana gifted us this ages ago, you’ve really got to start fighting somewhere else!”), it seemed Lyra too was prone to “magical accidents” when she didn’t get her way. Ginny wasn’t sure how to help, and Malfoy was much too busy to point her in the right direction. It was only after Malfoy’s curse over Witherwings’ antics — knocking over some books on the desk — that Ginny felt a pair of eyes on her.

Gray.

He was watching her with suspicion, and Ginny realized she must have made a mistake. The little boy stomped over to her, his eyes narrowing further.

“What’s my favorite dragon?”

Malfoy could not hear his son’s interrogation. Ginny was on her own. She offered Gray a smile, and bent down so that she was eye level with him. Desperately, she thought of Charlie’s favorite dragon when he was a child. 

“Hungarian Horntail?” 

She tried to sound surer of herself, but found that she couldn’t as he stared her down just as his father often did. Gray’s lips pursed as he shrugged.

“You’re right,” he said, unexpectedly.

“Really?” The word slipped from her lips, and Gray straightened his back.

“No, mummy, my favorite dragon is a Chinese Fireball! You _know_ that. Why would you even mention a Hungarian Horntail? Are you okay, mummy? I’m worried about you, I think something’s wrong. Daddy! Daddy!”

“No, no, I’m fine—” Ginny attempted to catch the boy’s attention, but he was already running to Malfoy.

Malfoy looked down at Gray, and, while Ginny couldn’t hear what her son was saying, she knew it wasn’t good. She groaned, dropping her head in her hands and crouching on the floor, when Malfoy cautiously glanced over at her. Suddenly, Orion’s voice rang out above everyone else’s.

“Wait, what? Mum doesn’t—what? Mum! Mum!”

Ginny miserably lifted her head, already missing the darkness her hands provided. Orion was now standing in front of her. Gray stood a step or two behind his big brother.

“Mum, what’s my favorite sport?” Orion asked sharply.

“Quidditch,” she answered quickly.

“That’s right,” he admitted.

“Too easy,” Gray demanded, pushing Orion to the side.

Malfoy finally came to her rescue once he had picked up Lyra. He cradled the young girl on his hip, swatting her hands away from his face, before starting towards Ginny and the boys.

“What’s my favorite sweet?” Gray asked. 

“What did you get me for my birthday?” Orion questioned.

“When _is_ his birthday, mummy?” Gray cut in.

The boys shared a look just as Malfoy stepped up, depositing Lyra between her brothers.

“Stop it, Gray, Orion. This is unnecessary,” Malfoy chided, cross.

“Yes, leave mummy alone,” Lyra ordered, putting her tiny hands on her hips.

Ginny bit her lip and caught Malfoy’s eye. She didn’t know any of the answers. Worse still, she knew she wouldn’t get away with lying to them. Hesitantly, she began to speak, but Malfoy beat her to the punch.

“Pumpkin pasties, a trip to see the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch pitch, and September 15th,” Malfoy answered smoothly.

“Not fair!” Orion protested. “Those questions were for mum, not you!”

“Well. I’m allowed to answer for her, boys, we’re married,” Malfoy said, extending a hand to Ginny, who was still squatting on the floor. 

He lifted her up with one swift pull, and Ginny shot him a quick, grateful smile.

“Well, yeah,” Gray conceded. “But it’s not fair. Mummy didn’t know my favorite dragon.”

Malfoy exhaled in an overly exaggerated manner, puffing out his cheeks. He looked absolutely ridiculous, and Ginny swallowed a laugh. Lyra barely tried to contain hers, giggling as she wrapped her arms around Malfoy’s legs. 

“What should her punishment be, then?” Malfoy asked.

Orion’s eyes lit up and he rubbed his hands together, laughing loudly and dramatically. Gray’s eyes also gained a spark to them, his previous worries forgotten in the face of something much more fun. Ginny’s eyes grew wide when the three children began to speak at once, each offering an unrealistic and silly suggestion.

“How about—” Malfoy cut in and the children all stopped speaking. “How about, she has to bring you sweets home today? Your granny always makes the very best.”

Orion and Gray exchanged a long look, but Lyra was already jumping up and down, trying to catch Malfoy’s attention.

“Yeah! Sweets, yes, please! Daddy!” Lyra cried out.

Orion was eventually nodding in tandem with Lyra’s cries.

“The punishment fits the crime,” Orion told him, sparing a glance at Ginny.

There was a smile on his face, and Ginny couldn’t help but return it.

“Gray?” Malfoy prodded, turning his attention to the last child.

Gray made a show of pursing his lips and studying the ceiling thoughtfully. Then, he grinned.

“Yes, I forgive you, mummy,” he told her sweetly. 

“Thank you,” she said, relief flooding her.

“If you bring sweets,” Gray emphasized.

“Of course,” Ginny agreed.

Malfoy looked at Ginny then, his eyebrows raised.

“Shame on you, Gin,” he said, shaking his head. “Destroying the hearts of your own children. Tsk, tsk. Best to get ready so that you can go get those treats from granny,”

She held back a smile, nodding solemnly.

“Yes, I suppose.”

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

She was pulling her hair back into a braid, but wisps of hair stubbornly escaped every attempt. Ginny wanted to be annoyed, except her mind kept drifting to the lunch she was about to attend. Her mum would literally question her to death; she likely had a list of questions to exhaust, Ginny knew that much. And who else would be joining them? Hopefully, Hermione. It felt like ages since Ginny had last seen her good friend. 

Ginny tried to think of the other women in the Weasley family. Fleur, of course, but she was likely off on an exotic adventure with Bill. When she had studied all the new photographs in the Burrow, she had seen so many children she couldn’t remember meeting. George had created a family with Angelina Johnson; they had begun seriously dating ten years ago, from what Ginny could remember. And Percy had been photographed with a woman Ginny didn’t know at all—

The bedroom door opened, and Ginny turned with a squeak, startled. When she noticed it was Malfoy, she found her lips curling into a small smile in greeting. He nodded at her, but his expression was tense, strained. Ginny stopped messing with her hair to stare at him, eyebrows rising.

“Everything okay, Malfoy?” she asked slowly.

Something was definitely off. Ginny approached him without hesitation, worry nipping at her. His eyebrows were creased, creating wrinkles Ginny had not noticed before, and she bit her lip, confused by his silence. 

“Malfoy?” Ginny tried again.

She lifted her hand to touch his forearm, to give some sort of comfort, but she withdrew when he grimaced.

“There’s something else I’ve been hiding from you,” Malfoy spoke up. “I should’ve told you earlier, outside, but I’ve been… avoiding it. It’s a bit of a sensitive topic…”

“Stop stalling, then,” Ginny said as his words trailed off.

She panicked. Was he going to bring up the divorce papers? Were they going to have this talk right now? Had he figured out that she knew about the papers? Or was this something else entirely? Was he uncomfortable being with her in this house? Did he regret agreeing to her idea of going to the ball with him? Ginny was aware she had been forward in her agreement to go, that he hadn’t wanted her to go. However, she had been so sure that he would appreciate her company, despite telling her to think it over at lunch.

He didn’t seem to want to continue. As the dread continued to build, Malfoy remained silent. Ginny took a step back, hands clasped together over her chest. 

“What is it, Malfoy?” Ginny inquired softly.

His stare abruptly turned onto her, and she hadn’t realized that he had been lost in his own thoughts. 

“Oh, oh no,” Malfoy mumbled, stepping up to her.

He invaded her personal space, his hands rising on either side of her, grasping her arms lightly.

“I apologize, I shouldn’t have worried you,” he finally continued, his voice stronger than it had been a moment before. “My mother is coming by to visit while you’re out at lunch. She should be here any minute now, actually.”

Malfoy’s eyes darted to a clock that hung in the room before shifting back to her again. 

Narcissa Malfoy was coming to visit? Ginny had never directly dealt with the woman before, according to her memory. There had been a few notable times throughout her life that Ginny recalled seeing her, in Diagon Alley, at Hogwarts after the final battle, and in the Daily Prophet during her trial. Harry had confided in Ginny that, had Narcissa Malfoy not lied to Voldemort, he would have likely been dead. Voldemort would have won the war. Everything would have been different.

And she did it all for her son.

Ginny remembered thinking that Narcissa resembled an angel or a fairy, from the times she had spied on her. Her hair had been strikingly white like Malfoy’s. She also constantly wore an unpleasant expression on her pretty features, with her nose lifted in perpetual disdain. Ginny had always thought that Narcissa would look much prettier with a smile instead of a permanently displeased expression. 

Was that why Malfoy was worried? Because his mother was coming to visit? Ginny thought back to the Malfoy family picture on the mantel in the library, of how she had been slightly disgusted to look at it two days ago. Now, she hardly thought it a big deal. After all, she was their grandmother, and she had every right to see the children, especially if Malfoy was okay with it.

“O…kay?” Ginny said slowly.

His hands were warm on her arms.

“That’s not it,” he confessed. “She’s coming to see the children because we’re going to take them to see my father.”

“Your father?”

She felt like the floor had fallen out under her. Only the rage that had begun to boil in her stomach brought her back to reality. Lucius Malfoy had been charged and convicted of being a Death Eater, and of willingly assisting Voldemort throughout the war. He had been sent to Azkaban for life. Was Malfoy really suggesting sending the children to Azkaban to visit that horrid man? Ginny felt her body flush with a sudden mix of emotions — anger, fear, and loss. Thanks to Lucius Malfoy, her first year at school had almost been her last. He had given her the diary that led her to the Chamber of Secrets, to Tom Riddle, to her near death. 

Ginny deflated, stumbling backwards so that she could sit on the edge of the bed. Malfoy audibly took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair, gnawing at his lip. If Ginny wasn’t so focused on herself, on the idea of their children going to Azkaban to see Lucius Malfoy — a man she had always hated — she would have noticed that Malfoy had finally lost control of himself, of the situation.

“In Azkaban?” Ginny asked, lifting her eyes to his, though she already knew that was where Lucius resided.

Malfoy grunted in affirmation. His hands were nervously twitching again, but, this time, he had one tapping nervously on his side while the other was drumming his fingers against his lips.

“Ginny,” he started, his voice low. “I avoided telling you for a reason—”

“What reason?” Ginny shot back, frowning. “Is this something that happens often? Taking the children to Azkaban to visit their Death Eater grandfather?”

Malfoy’s cheeks flushed but he didn’t respond. She wondered how often they fought about it. Or if they had at all in recent years. Maybe she had argued over the matter with him when Orion was a newborn but, clearly, she had given in. Or maybe he was taking advantage of her memory loss to get his way. How else would she ever agree, after all? Who would let their children go to Azkaban?

She was being taken advantage of. Her breath caught as anger washed over her again.

“Was it guilt that made you tell me this?” she asked, panting heavily. “Were you just going to take them without saying anything? Just let me go to lunch with my mum and whoever else and just— just be happy I wasn’t nagging you about— that I didn’t put up some fight? Is it because I don’t remember anything? You think you can just—”

“Ginny, I _told_ you,” Malfoy growled, throwing his hands into the air. “You can’t possibly be angry with me over something I didn’t do.”

Ginny stood from the bed, eyes narrowing. How did she know she had allowed it to happen? Maybe he had never taken them, and he viewed her memory loss as an opportunity.

“Your father is a _monster_ ,” Ginny spat.

Malfoy grimaced yet nodded. 

“Yes.”

“If he had his way, Voldemort would have won,” she continued, heated. “And you want our children—”

“He’s their _grandfather_ , Gin,” Malfoy interrupted, sounding weary. 

This time, it was he who took a seat on the bed. Now, she stared down at him, still hot from outrage. But his words pacified her. Or, perhaps, it was how they sounded coming from him. Hadn’t she just waived her concern over Narcissa Malfoy visiting the children because she was their grandmother?

“This isn’t the first time we’ve had this fight,” Malfoy informed her, rubbing his forehead. “And I doubt that it’ll be the last. You’ve never liked my father and I understand, really, and after the accident I can only imagine how this sounds but…” 

He trailed off and Ginny sighed, the anger leaving her as quickly as it had come. She sat down next to him, her butt partially hanging off the frame, and their arms brushed. 

“Convince me, then,” she offered, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

Malfoy glanced at her.

“I know this must seem mad. You only let it happen because… because I ask you to. Believe me, my father is not someone I ache to see, but my mother thinks it’s good for him to see the children. And it’s good for the children too.

“They love him,” he continued. “And, as much as I wanted to shelter them from him, to keep them away from his reach, I couldn’t. I didn’t want them to not understand the burden of the Malfoy name.”

The burden of the Malfoy name. Ginny frowned, sudden shame knotting her stomach as she listened. Shame not because she too wore the Malfoy name, as twisted and dark and complicated as it was, but shame because of the resentment that lingered in his words as he spoke. Draco Malfoy possibly knew, more than anyone, the burden of his last name, in a way Ginny never cared to think about. Everything that had happened to him, every snobby comment he had made to her at Hogwarts, the decisions he had made that resulted in Dumbledore’s death. Each time his hand was forced to choose between what was right and what would save his family, every choice came back to the last name he bore.

Malfoy.

“Azkaban isn’t what it used to be. Potter made sure of that after the war. He lobbied and fought for reform in the prison system. It took years, of course, with how wrecked the Ministry was after the war. But his hard work paid off. The Dementors left. Prisoners were allowed weekly visits from family and friends. The security _is_ much stronger than before or I would have _never_ allowed our children in there. And my father knows that if he ever steps out of line, we’d never go back,” Malfoy seethed, his last words acidic. 

Ginny wished to speak but the words spilled from Malfoy rapidly. She didn’t have the heart to stop him, even with his flushed face and wide eyes.

“He proved me wrong once, however, when he first met Orion. The children are heirs to the Malfoy name, so of course I knew he’d be invested in them simply because of that. But it is more than that. He truly cares for them, in a way I had never thought I’d see.”

Ginny wondered how Lucius Malfoy had cared for his son if Draco Malfoy was surprised to see his father act lovingly to his children. Once again, she wished her mind worked the way it used to. If she could just remember what she already knew of Malfoy’s past with his father, and his mother, then the entire conversation would have a different effect on her.

“Okay, then,” Ginny said, breaking the silence that fell after Malfoy’s rant. 

His eyes met hers. The gray in them was calming, cooler, and she could tell by the pull of his mouth that he was embarrassed by what he had blurted out. But Ginny felt she had learned more about Malfoy in the past ten minutes than she had during the whole six years they were at Hogwarts.

“I trust you. Take the children.”

Once the words left her mouth, Ginny sucked in a breath, surprised. Malfoy didn’t seem to notice, though his eyes roamed her face almost tenderly. 

The issue was that Ginny _did_ trust Malfoy. Sometime between stumbling out of the fireplace yesterday morning to waking up, hand reaching out to Malfoy in her sleep, Ginny’s feelings for him had begun to change. They were a team now. He had agreed to help her. And he had helped her, carrying her to bed and staying with her throughout the night after her library incident. It was odd to find trust in someone she had thought an enemy twenty-four hours ago.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” he muttered.

Ginny smiled up at him, and his lips curled upwards in return. He did seem happy to hear that she trusted him. The smile didn’t leave his face as he ran a hand through his hair, and sighed.

“Mother will be here shortly,” Malfoy told her. “I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

She laughed at that, her reaction clearly surprising him. 

“Well, does she hate me?” Ginny asked.

Malfoy smirked yet shook his head.

“You two get along rather well,” he admitted. “Though I think it has to do with bonding over bullying me more than anything else.”

Ginny’s laughter increased, and she rolled her eyes once she calmed.

“Yes, poor Malfoy,” she teased.

He rose to his feet, but not before knocking his elbow against hers. She continued giggling, and he swiveled to face her rather dramatically. 

“Vicious woman,” Malfoy taunted. “However, on a more serious note, you might not want to call me ‘Malfoy’ in front of my mother. She’s not as easily fooled as the children, and she will know something is amiss.”

“You haven’t told her about my accident?”

She was uncertain of Malfoy’s relationship with his mother though she found it odd that he kept such vital information from her. He shrugged, unfazed.

“It’s not something I felt she should know. And she’ll be anxious enough over the idea of seeing my father that I didn’t want to concern her with anything else. I’m not sure I can handle owls from both my mother and yours.”

Ginny frowned but nodded in agreement. It wasn’t her place to admonish him over what he did and didn’t tell his mother. At least, not at the moment. 

As Malfoy fixed his hair in the mirror, Ginny was once again lost in her thoughts. He never once corrected her when she called him Malfoy over the past few days. And she wondered why it hardly bothered him until they had to wear a public façade. She agreed with him, of course. He was her husband, and calling him by his surname was foolish, _and_ showed a lack of connection between them. _Draco_. Ginny briefly considered how well it would roll off her tongue.

Their decision to act as a team created the most intimate relationship she had ever had with him, as far as she could remember. He had guided her, and she yearned to reciprocate the gesture and, Merlin knew, they never held a close relationship at Hogwarts. They were friends, in a bizarre way. He had no longer been Malfoy to her, she knew that, but to face the realization meant accepting a number of things she wasn’t ready to deal with yet. Perhaps the easiest thing he had asked of her was to call him by his given name. 

Ginny hopped off the bed once he was done preening, and together they headed out of the bedroom. He held the door open for her and she passed by him.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~


	5. Day Four, Part Two

When Narcissa Malfoy arrived at the house, Ginny was ensuring that the children were properly dressed to leave. Snow had begun to fall sometime between Ginny braiding her hair and Malfoy tasking her with the duty of making sure each child had matching gloves and shoes on. Ginny had initially laughed at his request; then she saw that Orion was wearing two different brands of boots, and Lyra and Gray had swapped their right gloves for some odd reason. Once the front door had opened after a curt knock, Ginny barely had time to right herself from her ridiculous squatting position in front of Lyra.

Narcissa wore a robe so heavy that it appeared to add an extra eighty pounds to her thin frame. She shrugged it off without a thought as soon as Malfoy — no, not Malfoy, Draco — approached and took it from her silently, pressing a kiss to her cheek as way of greeting. Ginny rushed to stand, her palms sweaty at the sight of the sour-faced woman. She didn’t look as displeased as Ginny remembered, but her lips thinned once they made eye contact.

Ginny attempted to straighten her jumper, and then grabbed Lyra’s hand for comfort, feeling foolish for doing so. Narcissa practically glided towards them, her heeled shoes clacking loudly against the floor. Ginny instantly felt young and small and embarrassed, probably because she was not attractive enough to be in the presence of the approaching woman. Up close, Narcissa was so much more stunning than Ginny had initially thought. 

Her skin was pale and smooth, though there were wrinkles that Ginny noticed, now that the older woman was near. Narcissa’s eyes were strikingly blue, and Ginny briefly wondered if perhaps she was responsible for the color of Orion’s own. With her white hair twisted into a high, neat bun, Narcissa looked elegant and well poised next to Ginny. Ginny could only speculate what Narcissa might think of her only daughter-in-law, whose hair stubbornly refused to remain in the braid no matter how long Ginny had worked at it, and who thought the emerald jumper she wore was too nice. It certainly wasn’t, now that she saw what Narcissa’s clothes looked like.

Narcissa jolted Ginny from her thoughts when she leaned over and pressed a kiss to her left cheek, and then her right. She pulled away from her and smiled delicately, bringing a hand down, without looking, to cup Lyra’s cheek. Lyra laughed out of loud, letting go of Ginny’s hand to grab onto Narcissa’s wrist.

“You look tired, Ginevra,” Narcissa remarked curiously. “Lunch with your mother today?”

Ginny peered over Narcissa’s shoulder at Mal— Draco, but he was busy reprimanding Orion. He must have felt her eyes on him, however, because he glanced over at the two women. When their eyes met, Ginny took a breath and regarded his mother.

“Er, yes, lunch,” Ginny said with a nod. 

Narcissa pursed her lips but accepted her response. Ginny silently cursed herself as the older woman turned her attention towards Lyra. Why couldn’t she just act normal around Narcissa? Barely five minutes had passed, and she hadn’t done anything to scare Ginny. In spite of her resistance, a seed of nervousness planted itself in her stomach. Ginny fidgeted, knowing that, in any second, Narcissa was going to scrutinize Ginny, to analyze her, her stare undoubtedly fiercer than any look Draco could give her.

There was no way Narcissa was going to leave her son’s house without thinking that something was amiss with his wife. 

Ginny felt herself flush at the realization, and was ready to slowly back out of the foyer to escape the situation when Draco appeared at her side. He pressed his hand to the small of her back, and she relaxed instantly at the pressure. His presence didn’t make her want to stay any longer than necessary, but it did make her feel… calmer about the situation. Narcissa visibly straightened, her pursed lips loosened into a smile after talking to Lyra.

“Do you plan on going to the Ministry ball tonight?” Narcissa casually directed the question at her. 

Draco stiffened beside Ginny, but this was a question she felt confident answering.

“Yes, of course,” she replied smoothly.

Ginny glanced up at Draco, but he was staring at his mother, a pink tint high in his cheeks.

“Mother, we should head out. You know as well as I do that our slotted appointment time for visitation is very strict. If we’re late, we will not get back the time lost—”

“Really, Draco, can’t I talk to your wife?” Narcissa shot back, folding her arms across her chest.

She felt, more than heard, Draco sigh heavily against her. He was trying to rush his mother out of the house for her benefit, or so she preferred to think. Ginny wanted to grab his hand and squeeze it in gratitude. Instead, she shrugged at Narcissa, inexplicably relaxed. 

“Always so protective of me,” Ginny teased, to Narcissa.

The words spilled carelessly from her lips, and Ginny’s eyebrows twitched. Narcissa took the joke in stride, smirking at her.

“One of his finer qualities,” Narcissa allowed, staring affectionately at Draco before looking back at Ginny. “Did you receive the dress robes I sent to you last week? They’ll be well-received at the Ministry ball, especially after the alterations we had done.”

Ginny had no idea what robes or alterations Narcissa was referring to, but, thankfully, Narcissa was suddenly distracted by Gray’s arrival. Ginny wasn’t sure how long she could remain in polite conversation with the eagle-eyed woman. Draco cleared his throat lightly beside her and she looked at him. His eyebrows had risen and, somehow, she could hear what he was thinking.

_Can never pass on teasing me, can you, Ginny?_

It was odd to hear his voice in her head, to know the look he gave her meant, to know that he had previously given her the same look and said those words, and that he was amused. She turned her head away, grinning slightly, before answering his mother.

“Yes, it looks lovely,” she responded.

Narcissa nodded, still preoccupied, and Draco stepped away from Ginny. 

“Come now, children, mother,” Draco said loudly, beginning to usher the children towards the front door. 

The children each squeaked out a goodbye before rushing out of the house, into the cold and the snow. Ginny knew they were anxious to get outside and play, even for only a moment. Narcissa eventually turned as Draco helped her with the heavy cloak, regarding Ginny.

“Tell your mother I said hello, won’t you?” 

The words were clipped and forced, but Ginny knew it had been to comfort her, to show feigned friendliness between her mother and Narcissa. Ginny appreciated the gesture all the same.

“Of course.”

“I’ll be out in a moment, mother,” Draco said. “Wait with the children?”

Narcissa didn’t respond nor did she linger at the door, exiting the foyer immediately so that Ginny and Draco were alone. The door shut with a soft click, and Draco sighed loudly before approaching his wife. He tilted his head as he stared down at her, and Ginny grinned in response.

“Thanks for saving me,” Ginny laughed, wrapping her arms around herself. “I think your mother can smell a lie.”

Draco chuckled at that, nodding.

“That’s very plausible,” he conceded. “You didn’t freeze up as badly as the first time you met her.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows, surprised at what he had said. Merlin, she must have been a horrible mess the first time she had met the older woman. Narcissa was sharper than Draco was, and if she hadn’t already accepted Ginny and Draco’s relationship by the time they had to meet, she could only imagine how the initial introduction went.

“Was I a stammering fool?” she asked lightly, half giggling.

Draco grinned.

“No more than usual.”

She wanted to stick her tongue out at him. Instead, she observed the empty foyer.

“Shouldn’t you be going so that the children won’t turn into icicles? The Daily Prophet would enjoy that.”

Ginny herself grabbed a jacket from the closet, since, apparently lunch would be in Muggle London and a cloak was ill-fitting. She awaited his response as she buttoned it. When he kept mum, Ginny turned to stare at him. He was rooted in the same spot, his gaze soft as he studied her. Only when she awkwardly called to him that he started from his thoughts.

“You alive over there?” she asked.

He blinked a few times before clearing his throat.

“I’d like for you to seriously consider not attending tonight’s ball,” Draco stated bluntly. 

Ginny fought the temptation to roll her eyes.

“Really, Draco, don’t get so upset about it,” Ginny joked.

Her playfulness died once she noticed his face twist — he looked as though she had physically struck him. Ginny wavered, her mouth opening and closing uneasily as she stared at him. 

“I want to go,” she told him gently.

When he didn’t respond, Ginny wrung her hands in front of her.

“Are you okay, Draco?”

She realized then what had affected him. Draco. Ginny had yet to call him by his first name, like he had reasonably requested earlier, and it had taken him by surprise. His name rolled easily off her tongue, as she had suspected, and he gaped like she had Stunned him.

“Your mother is probably going to return in a murderous rage,” Ginny muttered, walking up to him to try to ease the situation. “You need to go outside—”

Draco suddenly seized her by the arms, and she tensed at the unexpected move. She nearly forgot to breathe as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. His lips were warm and firm, and Ginny wanted to gasp, wanted to back up, wanted to lean in, when he decided for her by stepping away. He lifted his hand to his chin and made an odd sound before heading briskly to the door. Ginny stared blankly   
after him.

“Owl if you need me,” he told her quickly, rushing to leave.

Was he… was he avoiding her eyes? Heat suffused Ginny’s cheeks as the door closed behind Draco, and she continued gawking for a long while. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

“How’s your head feeling, Ginny?”

“Does it still hurt? Any headaches? Have you started to remember anything?”

“You should really go to St. Mungo’s if you’re in any pain, dear. How’s Draco?”

“It has to be weird staying with Malfoy.”

“How’s that been with Draco? And the children?”

“Ginny, dear, are you listening to us?”

Ginny rubbed her forehead, opening her eyes slowly to find three pairs of curious eyes on her. The three women, women who Ginny had always loved and adored, had not stopped talking at her since she strolled into the tiny coffee shop twenty minutes ago. Hermione had already ordered her a cup of coffee, but Ginny had no desire for any after her first cup early in the morning. Her stomach was in knots, and she wanted to blame it on the coffee. 

The café, Angelina explained once she had sat down, was a tiny spot in Muggle London that she had stumbled upon years ago while she was pregnant with her first child. She had been leaving Fred and George’s joke shop — now run mostly by George and partially by Angelina and Ron — when she had craved a decaffeinated tea to sip as she pondered about life. It became tradition as the pregnant Weasley women began to meet weekly at the café and catch up on life. Having raised six sons, her mum loved spending time with the young daughters in her family.

Ginny didn’t recognize the café at all in spite of her weekly visits for the past nine years. 

After listening politely to Angelina’s explanation of their meet-up in Muggle London, Ginny took a deep breath and, as if on cue, was promptly bombarded with questions. Ten minutes, and a large bite of the sandwich she had ordered, later, Ginny finally focused on the women around her.

“My head feels fine,” she answered. “I haven’t really remembered anything—”

“But you did remember something?” Hermione interrupted, blowing on her coffee and raising her eyebrows. 

Her mum and Angelina leaned forward to listen closely, and Ginny sighed.

“Just random things. Certain smells and objects give me flashes of stuff Malfoy has said to me.”

She thought of the notes Maggie had sent her, of how desperate she felt over Malfoy — no, Draco — signing the divorce papers, and swallowed.

“You really should get back to calling him Draco, dear,” her mum chimed in.

“Mum,” Ginny groaned, already annoyed by the nagging.

After all, hadn’t she just shocked Draco by calling him by his first name?

“Well, how’s it been staying with him?” Angelina asked. “I mean, the last thing you remember of him is when he was a little prat at Hogwarts. Have you both been getting on well?”

Getting on well? The previous day, yes, after she had snuck out of her house to see Harry. Her face burned as she recalled Draco waiting for her in the library, cool and collected, when she stumbled out of the fireplace. 

“Better than I imagined,” she admitted. “I always thought of him as a coward and a snake. I don’t remember ever speaking a word to him that wasn’t an insult. I never found him particularly attractive—”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Angelina said with a snort.

“—and he whined like a school boy,” Ginny finished stubbornly.

For some reason, she wanted to defend her disdain of him that had plagued her during the first two days — even if it wasn’t as heavy now.

“Well, that’s because you remember him as a school boy. He only whines from time to time now,” Hermione piped up, barely containing her laughter. 

“So, all is well then?” her mum questioned.

Ginny sighed but nodded.

“As well as it can be, I suppose.”

Her mum hummed happily at that, breaking off a piece of the cupcake she had bought and popping it into her mouth. Hermione didn’t appear too surprised either, shrugging helplessly.

“What?” Ginny snapped at Hermione, noticing the gesture.

“Well… once you and Draco moved past your old rivalry, the both of you got along… rather well to be honest,” Hermione told her slowly. 

Ginny studied the women around the table — all of them knew her well, and she wished she could remember them in her lost years. Hermione’s hair still made her appear as though she had been hit by a spell. It stood on its ends, even with several barrettes clipped in. She looked rather cozy in the patterned jumper, which Ron had likely bought for her, and a worn bag that Ginny knew carried several heavy books. Angelina was still tall and slender, her hair in multiple thin braids that cascaded past her chest. There was a softness in her eyes that Ginny couldn’t place, and she wondered if it was from the two children she had with George or from helping George through the loss of Fred.

George had been devastated for years after the Final Battle, and no one had been able to get him out of his funk. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia — the three girls, who had played Quidditch with the twins throughout their Hogwarts days, had devoted their time to helping her older brother. But, it was Angelina who had been Fred’s closest girl friend, and it was Angelina who motivated George to start working on his shop again. They had only just become rather serious, according to Ginny’s last memory. Now, they had two children.

“Have you talked to Harry yet?” Angelina inquired innocently.

Ginny scowled as her mum’s eyes widened.

“Who told you?” Ginny grumbled.

“Ron told her.” Angelina nodded her head to Hermione. “Who told me.”

Hermione’s face turned bright pink as she dodged Ginny’s glare.

“I’m sorry, Ginny, but Harry had told Ron and I didn’t want to upset you by owling you so I—”

“Are there no secrets anymore?” Ginny demanded loudly, ready to throw her hands up in defeat.

Angelina laughed as Hermione looked ready to bolt from the table. Hermione had always been good at keeping secrets unless it involved Ron or Harry. Then, she would do anything necessary to protect them. Apparently, she viewed Harry in need of protection from Ginny. Swirling her coffee in the cup, she thought carefully before speaking. Her mum’s expression had changed from shocked to horrified, and Ginny didn’t want to cause a scene in the tiny coffee shop.

“Do you still love Harry?” Angelina asked bluntly.

Ginny took a deep breath. Did she still love Harry? Of course, of course. There was no end to her love for Harry, not when until a few days ago, she had viewed herself to still be in a relationship with him. Yet, after meeting him yesterday, after witnessing the way he stared at her so differently…

“All I remember is Harry,” she replied honestly. 

“So… Are you going to try to get back with Harry?” Hermione inquired skeptically, eyeing Ginny before taking another sip of her drink.

“Maybe,” Ginny answered, far too quickly. Then she moaned. “Oh, I don’t know.”

Her cheeks flushed when her mum gasped in surprise.

“But what about Draco, dear?” Molly fretted.

“I know, I know,” Ginny said, waving her hands in response to her mum’s question.

Nobody spoke, waiting for her to continue. 

“ _Draco_ ,” she glared pointedly at her mum, who stuck her chin up in the air. “is my husband and the father of my children and I’m going to stay with him now because that’s what’s needed but… What if we weren’t as happy as everyone thought we were?”

The three women stared at her, stunned. The bustle within the café filled her ears. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, again, this time to her family instead of her ex-boyfriend. She couldn’t stop thinking about it now that she was out and about in the real world, and not locked inside a house with Draco and the children. Ginny had almost forgotten there were other choices, other options. What if she could make it work with Harry? What if she could still fulfill her dream? 

What if she could make it work with Draco?

Angelina seemed unfazed by Ginny’s declaration after the women took time to process what she had said.

“Every couple goes through that phase. I have, with George, many times. Close to every other week. But, Ginny, you _love_ Draco. You have for years now. We’ve all seen it.” 

“And he loves you,” Hermione added, reaching out to grab Ginny’s clammy hand.

When had her hands become clammy? Smiling at Hermione’s reassurance, Ginny pulled her hands back and placed them on her lap for warmth. Did anyone even notice her absent wedding ring? 

“No one thought it mad? That I left Harry and decided to marry Draco?” she asked tentatively.

After all, Ginny was still figuring out how she had managed to meet Draco again after their Hogwarts days, much less fall in love with him.

The three ladies shared a look. Angelina took the lead.

“We were all disappointed by your breakup with Harry, but it was your choice and you were firm in it, and… you were happier. When you got together with Malfoy, we were certainly surprised.”

“Horrified, really,” her mum confessed cheerfully.

“By then, Harry had moved on, and he really didn’t seem to mind. You were, well— you were glowing. And, other than your brothers taking some time to get used to the relationship, no one else objected,” Hermione added. “We just wanted you happy.”

_Happy_. The weight of the word would have had Ginny staggering if she were on her feet. Was she happy right now? No. She partially yearned to return to her life with Harry, whom she hadn’t thought about once throughout the morning. Was she happy before the Bludger slammed into her head and knocked her off her broom? No, she wasn’t happy then, drowning herself in sorrow over Draco’s signature on the divorce papers. The last time she had been happy was in the photographs tucked into the photo albums hidden in her secret nook. 

How could she return to that? And did she really want to?

The conversation soon drifted away from Ginny and Draco, and all the confusing topics that had arisen, though mostly because Ginny couldn’t handle more questions and forced a change. They spoke about the children currently enrolled in Hogwarts, about how Rose had found love in Charms, about how her father had fixed the bathroom sink at the Burrow by himself, about how George still wanted Ginny to help run his joke shop along with Ron.

She immersed herself in the company of her family. Hermione spent some time listing every niece and nephew on the Weasley side of the family. Angelina caught her up on Quidditch and of the major players in the current season. Molly spoke affectionately of each of her sons and their locations throughout the world. When it was time to leave, she felt drained. The coffee Hermione had bought her sat cold, but the food Angelina insisted on paying for had filled her stomach, leaving her full yet content. Her mum filled Ginny’s purse with loads of sweets, after Ginny had written to her in the morning. Angelina was heading back to the joke shop, and her mum-in-law was swinging by Diagon Alley to browse some newly-arrived books, so Angelina offered to walk with her. Hermione and Ginny remained, slowly tugging on their jackets and scarfs. 

Hermione wore her hand-knitted scarf well, tucking it into her jacket. Evidently, her knitting skills had improved since Hogwarts. Once they left the café, they exchanged a goodbye hug, and Ginny was reluctant to release her friend. She had volunteered to attend the Ministry ball with Draco tonight, and he had insisted that she rethought her decision over lunch. Now that she was getting ready to head back home, she found herself hesitating. Should she go? Would it be a horrible mistake to show her face when she knew next to nothing about her own life?

As she stepped away from Hermione, her friend apparently noticed the worry etched on her features.

“Are you really alright over there?” Hermione questioned gently, placing a hand on Ginny’s forearm. 

Ginny sighed but nodded.

“We got into a fight today,” she told her softly.

“A fight?” Hermione stared at Ginny hard. “About what?”

While Ginny recounted the argument, and how Draco had detailed his plan to take the children to Azkaban, Hermione listened dutifully despite the cold. Belatedly, Ginny realized she should have had the conversation in the café. Her toes were practically growing numb, and she couldn’t risk a warming charm in the middle of Muggle London. 

“Well,” Hermione began once Ginny finished. “He wasn’t trying to trick you. Draco does take the children to Azkaban once or twice each month. And you do hate it. You’ve never forgiven Lucius, not completely, but you know it means a lot to Draco, so you agree. Sometimes, you both fight about it, and other times you don’t.”

Strangely, Hermione’s words relaxed Ginny. Draco hadn’t lied to her. He wasn’t taking advantage of her. Ginny didn’t realize she was still inwardly worrying over it until her friend’s explanation soothed her concerns. 

“Besides, Draco would never take the children there if he didn’t believe it safe. After all, he was the one who went into Azkaban and gutted it of all the Dementors. Reformed it, really—”

“Wait, what?” Ginny interjected, her eyebrows shooting up. “He said that it was Harry who made Azkaban safe again.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and nodded.

“Yes, I mean, it _was_ Harry’s push to the Ministry that set the change in motion but Draco’s the one who went on to actually _do_ it. It was the first time they had ever agreed on anything. Harry wanted the Dementors out after what they had done to Sirius, and Draco wanted the prison to be, well, livable again, what with his father being there. So, they created a plan. Harry went to the Ministry, and got the legislation in place, then recommended Draco for the job. With that done, Draco rebuilt Azkaban and turned it into more of a rehabilitation center than just a horrible, horrible prison.”

Why didn’t he tell her that while they were fighting over it? Ginny couldn’t believe it. Draco was part of the reason that Azkaban was no longer a torture chamber. He was the one who transformed the system so that the inmates could have time with their family, even briefly. She wondered if Orion was part of the reason. Had Draco wanted his father to meet his first-born child that badly? 

“What did you think he did for a living, Ginny?” Hermione asked, curious. 

“I didn’t think about it,” she answered lamely.

Hermione stared at her, frowning.

“Well, he’s the head of a rehabilitation team for wizard prisons across the globe. Azkaban was so successful that the other countries began asking for his help with their own prison reforms. That’s why he was in the U.S. when you had your accident. He was there to check out a rundown prison.”

Ginny felt a combination of horror at the fact that she had never thought to ask Draco about his work, that she had never pried further into his answer about a changed Azkaban, and pride that Draco and Harry had come together to create a system that would improve hundreds of lives. Families were able to stay united. Prisoners, like Hagrid who had gone to Azkaban during her first year, wouldn’t be subjected to cruelty while awaiting their trial. The abrupt memory of Hagrid from her first year surprised Ginny. She had apologized to Hagrid once, tearful and regretful, but he wouldn’t accept it.

_It wasn’t yer fault_ , he had told her. The guilt never completely left her.

Her eyes filled with tears as she hugged Hermione again, thankful yet unsure of why. Hermione gripped her shoulder sympathetically when she stepped back before they parted ways. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

The house seemed lifeless without the children. Ginny could hear her footsteps echo no matter where she walked. She shivered, emptying her purse of sweets for the children, and walked to her bedroom. Yolly was somewhere in the house, likely cleaning or preparing for the children to return home, but Ginny was happy the house elf didn’t appear right away to greet her.

Her mind was whirling with new information. Draco had reformed Azkaban. That was how he became friends with Harry, that was why they were on such good terms. And Draco’s mother, Narcissa, was someone Ginny liked to tease him with. Ginny and Narcissa were comrades in annoying Draco. Her children were visiting Lucius Malfoy at Azkaban right now and she was okay with it. And tonight, she was going to a Ministry event with Draco. Willingly.

What had happened to her life?

The moment she stepped into the bedroom, Ginny set out to find the dress robes that Narcissa had mentioned. Would she even recognize them? She doubted so. Nonetheless, she rummaged through her closet. There were so many dress robes — half hers and half Draco’s — that Ginny didn’t know where to start. After ten minutes, and ready to give up, Ginny stood back with her hands on her hips. How in the world was she going to get ready when she didn’t even know what to wear? Narcissa wouldn’t be pleased if Ginny showed up in dress robes that weren’t the ones her mother-in-law had bought.

“It’s the purple robes,” a voice spoke behind her.

Ginny shrieked and jumped, spinning around.

“How do you keep doing that?!” she shouted. “Are you a bloody ghost?”

Draco held out his arms in amusement.

“I seem pretty solid, don’t you think?”

Ginny wanted to growl out something mean — she hated being snuck up on — but she held back.

“Your head is pretty solid,” Ginny muttered angrily. 

“My _head_?” Draco repeated, walking further into the room. “Really, Ginny, your insults leave much to be desired.”

Grabbing a set of purple dress robes that she actually wouldn’t have noticed without help, Ginny stepped away from the closet and moved towards the bed. She laid the robes out flat and stared at them. Purple? Purple was not one of her favorite colors. Especially light purple, which these robes were. She always thought it clashed horribly with her bright hair and pale skin. Tilting her head to get a better idea of the robes, Ginny’s teeth played with her bottom lip.

“So you’ve made your decision then?” he asked, watching her.

Ginny looked away from the dress robes to him before simply nodding.

“I told you I was going to go,” she replied. “Not going to change my mind now.”

He didn’t respond, instead going to the bathroom and starting the shower. She jumped at the sound, face flushing as she wondered if Draco was going to… bloody hell, was he going to shower with her in the room? Once the thought entered her mind, she felt like she was ten years old again and seeing Harry for the first time; embarrassed, childish, and oddly excited. On the other hand, Ginny had showered with a sleeping Draco in the room. And she had grown up with six brothers. Really, she should be able to handle him showering in the next room.

However, Draco was certainly not a brother of hers.

His voice rang out from inside the bathroom, the door open a fraction of an inch. 

“How was lunch?”

“Like I was with a firing squad,” she called back honestly, hoping the redness in her face would disappear. “Question after question until my head was ready to explode.”

She heard his laughter ring from the bathroom and she smiled to herself. The urge to ask him about Azkaban came suddenly but she didn’t want to potentially ruin the friendliness between them. It would have to wait.

Grabbing her wand as she needed to distract herself, Ginny waved it, and the robes were lifted off the bed and suspended in the air. Did she really wear such clothes? And Narcissa had picked it out for her? Touching the fabric gently, Ginny sighed. It was going to look ridiculous on her, she just knew it. The robes were too expensive, cut too sharp, and showed far too much skin. If Molly Weasley saw her daughter in the robes, she would have a breakdown.

Why would Narcissa ever think to send her daughter-in-law, who wore handmade jumpers and had holes in several pairs of pants, such a nice set of dress robes?

The scent of magic tickled her nose. Ginny tore her gaze away from her dress robes, and the nightmare she had agreed to take part in, to realize that the shower had stopped. She looked at the bathroom door just as it fully opened, and Draco stepped out, clad in only a white robe that was tied loosely at his hips. Damn it. Her face flushed again, and she begged herself to look away. But she couldn’t.  
Either Draco didn’t notice her stare or he didn’t care, too distracted by what he needed to accomplish. Reminding herself that her observation was purely for her chastity’s sake, Ginny watched him move around. With a wave of his wand, several dress robes flew out of the closet. They surrounded him in a circle, and he scrutinized each set. His eyes would randomly dart towards her own robes, and she realized that he was trying to match the color. A silver of his bare chest was exposed to her, pale with wisps of light hair. Ginny urged herself to stop staring — she wasn’t sixteen! — before he caught her. 

“My mother has the children at the manor right now, so we can get ready without any distractions,” he suddenly informed her.

She felt like she could breathe again when his eyes met hers.

“Alright there?” he asked. “You’re awfully red. Do you feel okay?”

Draco approached her, the dress robes flying out of his way. Ginny attempted to speak, to keep him from approaching, but he neither noticed nor cared. He lifted a hand and brushed strands of her hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek a second too long. 

“Are you sure you wish to go?” Draco questioned, for the umpteenth time.

Ginny laughed, and it sounded shrill to her ears.

“Yes, I’m fine, just— you know, just thinking how stupid I’ll look in these robes,” she stuttered, blushing harder at the white lie. “I can’t pull these off.”

Draco glanced over at her robes, which were dangling directly behind her, in surprise. 

“You won’t look stupid,” he told her, clearly astonished by her words. 

As if he was questioning her sanity for thinking she could look stupid, ever.

Ginny opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. It still surprised her, how gentle he could be. The heat faded from her skin, and he offered her a quick smile before turning back to his critical examination. Three of the dress robes flew back into the closet after a moment, hanging themselves neatly in their previous spots. Draco’s choice was black and crisp, with a gray vest underneath. He grabbed them, nodded to himself, and then headed back towards the loo.

“You’ll want to pick something from the top drawer on the left,” his voice floated from behind the closed door. “And let me know once you’ve changed, will you?”

Hesitantly, Ginny approached the drawer. What would she need to pick from within? Something to match the dress robes? Ginny peered inside as she pulled the drawer open, and her jaw promptly dropped. The drawer was filled with knickers unlike the ones she now wore, which were comfortable and cotton, and covered mostly everything.

The folded panties in the drawer were lacey and barely whole. She picked up a gray pair and held them up. How could they even be comfortable? And why did she have to wear them? Ginny couldn’t stop herself from searching further in spite of her discomfort. She found too many lacy and frilly panties and bras that her face was beginning to burn again. Lingerie was an item Ginny apparently had plentifully. Draco obviously knew the drawer well enough, having directed her to it.

Did she often wear the lingerie for him?

Ginny snatched a lacy, thin bra from the drawer and slammed it shut. She wanted to interrogate Draco — was he having a joke on her? — but she couldn’t handle the humiliation of asking about her own underwear. Looking back at the dress robes, Ginny fidgeted for a second. It did look rather tight and the underwear she was wearing now would certainly be obvious.

Tossing the offending, thin underwear onto the bed, Ginny sat at her vanity table with a huff. Her hair was a tousled mess, her face seemed unable to return to its normal shade, and there were bags under her eyes. She could really use a nap. But her hands started working as though a switch had been flipped inside her head. Shaking her hair out of the braid, Ginny grabbed a container that she had previously thought was perfume, but was actually hair cream. She dipped her finger in, and then rubbed the product through her hair with familiarity.

Picking up her wand, she carefully twisted pieces of her hair into curls. It could have been a painstakingly slow process, except Ginny managed each curl perfectly and easily. How odd. Once her hair, previously straight and frizzy, was completely curled, she automatically moved to her makeup. One of the vanity drawers contained a pile of makeup that looked both well-used and pricey. She grabbed another cream to help with the bags under her eyes — the only reason she knew was because she read the directions on the bottle — before beginning on her makeup. 

By the time she was done, Ginny simultaneously felt like an expert and a simpleton for not knowing exactly how she had achieved her look. Regardless, she did look lovely. Even though the freckles on her face stood out beyond the flawless application, the sight didn’t bother her at all. She no longer looked tired or aged or… like she had no idea what she was doing. Instantly, she felt like she could wear the orchid-colored dress robes, and look good in them. 

While she remained baffled by her new surroundings, her body remembered and, somehow, her mind unconsciously did too. The dress robes floated to her, unsummoned. After inspecting the bathroom door, where she could hear Draco muttering to himself, Ginny quickly stripped off her clothes. She looked over again before removing her knickers and bra, hiding them underneath the clothes she had worn, and then grabbing the skimpy underwear she would need.

She yanked them on clumsily, blowing out a breath as she adjusted them so that they felt more comfortable. Ginny held onto the bra, in all its lacey and thin glory, and clipped it on. As she pulled the dress robes from the air, Ginny turned and caught herself in the mirror, clad in underwear. Growing up, Ginny had never been self-conscious about her body. Throughout Hogwarts, she knew the boys had found her pretty, and with her constant Quidditch-playing, she was fit. However, standing in front of the mirror now, and staring at a body she was still fighting to remember, Ginny felt an overwhelming pride spread through her.

The mirror reflected her body that had delivered Orion, Gray, and Lyra. Her breasts, which had fed them in the early mornings, cupped comfortably in the delicate bra. Her stomach, painted with stretch marks, slightly fleshier than she remembered it being. She ran a hand down her body, briefly cupping her hip before lying to rest on her thigh. Dear Merlin, she felt almost… sexy in this underwear. 

Draco’s muttering finally tapered off in the bathroom, snapping Ginny to attention. She waved her wand hastily, and the dress robes fell off the hanger, fitting easily onto her body. Her curls magically lifted themselves out of the way before the dress was pulled over her curves.

“Are you done yet? This is taking a while, even for you,” his voice drawled from the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said hurriedly. “Done!”

Draco exited the bathroom before she finished her response, his eyes finding hers right away. She began to smile but his gaze had already dipped, taking in her dress robes attentively. Ginny bit her lip, uneasy, turning back to the mirror.

“Do I look horrid?” she asked.

The style of the dress robes was unnatural on her — one she would applaud another woman for wearing. Her breasts were smothered in fabric, then pushed up and over the top, yet not indecently so. The fit was so bloody tight that she was surprised she could breathe. The garment flowed out from the top of her thighs, but she could still distinguish the curve of her behind, causing her to blush at the sight. 

On the other hand, the light purple shade complimented her hair, a fact that surprised Ginny more than anything. She pressed a hand to her chest as Draco approached her from behind.

“I told you that you wouldn’t look stupid,” he breathed, his voice low. 

She didn’t look stupid, Ginny could agree. Far less dressed for a public event than she would prefer but stupid? No, not stupid. When she smiled at his reflection, Draco returned it. Turning to face him, Ginny did a double take. Caught up in her fear of his perception over her attire, Ginny had almost forgotten to give him a once-over. And he looked… not like the ferret boy she recalled from Hogwarts. The black of his dress robes made his chin and cheekbones look sharper than usual, the gray vest deepening his piercing eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, and she forced her eyes away, up to his.

“We look rather good, don’t we?” she joked, reaching over to poke him in the shoulder.

He feigned injury but smirked back.

“We’ve always looked striking together.”

Draco sounded completely cocky and full of himself, just like the school boy she once knew, but it didn’t annoy her. Because it was _true_. The gray of his outfit matched the light purple of hers, the black holding the look together. Even the red of her hair, curled and shiny, brought out his pale complexion when they stood side by side. She laughed at him, nudging him out of the way so that she could slide on a pair of heels that had appeared. 

“Let’s not waste time then,” Draco said curtly. 

Taking a deep breath, Ginny nodded. They headed towards the foyer, wasting no time in grabbing their cloaks and preparing for the cold that waited. Draco held the front door open and Ginny noted that the falling snow hadn’t eased up at all — if anything, it was thicker now. She was looking up at the sky, watching the tiny flakes slowly descend from the dark heavens when Draco took her arm, leading her to the edge of the property. After he pulled out his wand to take them to the venue, he awkwardly cleared his throat, stealing her attention from the snowflakes.

“There’s something I’d like to return to you,” he told her.

Ginny tilted her head in confusion, certain that she was dressed up quite enough. He grabbed an item from his pocket. Her eyes followed the movement, noting his long fingers and trying to decipher through the snow fall what he held. A ring. Lifting her hand, Draco slid the sapphire ring onto her ring finger, squeezing her fingers gently. A flash of memory hit her then, and Ginny gasped as the world around her twisted and turned.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is a total tease chapter. I wrote out the Ministry holiday ball for chapter five also but the chapter ended up being 43 pages and that’s just insane. I didn’t realize it was so long until my lovely beta, Maya-nii, pointed it out. Hope you enjoy this chapter and please review! It feeds my soul. Thanks!


	6. Day Four, Part Three

_Draco held the ring out to her, uncertain and… he looked afraid. The sight tugged at Ginny’s heartstrings yet she couldn’t help but torture him further by closely examining the ring. It was beautiful, so much more than she needed, a large sapphire surrounded by little diamonds. Briefly, she wondered if it had been someone else’s in his family. Perhaps a great grandmother, or even further back—_

_“Ginny?” he called and she beamed at him._

_He visibly relaxed at her smile._

_“What do you say? Will you officially become a Malfoy?”_

_She nodded, laughing. “Yes, of course.”_

Their feet touched the ground and Ginny was able to breathe again. She yanked her hand from Draco’s as though burned. The same ring, from her memory, adorned her finger, tiny diamonds arranged around a sapphire. Her wedding ring. The ring perfectly covered the tan line she had worried over, and she brought her hands to her chest, covering the ring with her right palm. Draco stared at her.

“Don’t do this—” he started, but she hastily approached him.

“ _You_ had my ring?” she hissed, eyes desperately searching his face.

Draco looked away from her but was forced to return his gaze when she grabbed the front of his robes, tugging him closer towards her.

“You’ve had it this whole time? While I’ve been going mad with worry that I— that I bloody lost it somewhere and that’s why you hated me,” Ginny ranted, feeling tears pooling in her eyes.

“Ginny, _darling_ , we’re not having this fight here,” Draco whispered through clenched teeth, lowering his face so that it was as close to hers as possible. 

“Then why did you return the ring right before we left?” she spat.

When Draco stepped away — his face devoid of emotion and the only indication of his unhappiness the pink tint high in his cheeks — Ginny was suddenly aware of the dozens of people that surrounded them. The entrance hall was lined with fireplaces periodically ejecting wizards and witches from the Floo network. Several apparition stations were also set up throughout the hall. Ginny and Draco were blocking one such station, and a man, dressed in purple robes with a large, gold M sewn on the back, waved them forward. 

Draco reached for Ginny’s hand again but she snatched it back. Betrayal overwhelmed her, as did the abrupt memory of Draco’s proposal. She could remember the smell of sweets, of pies, and chocolate. She could sense the feel of his hand in hers, noting how clammy his hand had been before he asked the question, had asked her to marry him, to become a Malfoy.

She remembered his satisfied smile when she had said yes, the relief that brightened his eyes and relaxed his features, as if Draco had really thought Ginny was going to refuse, after everything they had been through. Ginny remembered thinking she had never seen him so happy.

Ginny shuddered, feeling the chill despite the heavy cloak she wore. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she told him, barely sparing him a glance.

“Right now?” Draco responded, tone caustic. “Ginny, this is ridiculous.”

But she was already walking away. The entrance hall was large and filled with guests. After being nudged and bumped into several times, she found the door she was looking for. She must have been a regular guest at Ministry parties, having automatically known the direction of the bathroom. With a grunt, Ginny pushed the heavy door open and stumbled to the sink. Cool water gushed out the faucet and she stuck her right hand under the flow, allowing her body to relax as she stared at her new ring.

Old ring. 

Whatever.

Her wedding ring. She toyed at it with her thumb, twisting it from one side to another. Draco had the ring the entire time. When she had asked about it on her first day home, curious and feeling rotten over its disappearance, he had lashed out at her. She had either returned it to him after he signed the divorce papers or he had asked for it. Why bother giving it back to her now?

The blue of the sapphire sparkled and she sighed, her answer obvious.

They were in public, at a Ministry ball where hundreds of eyes would watch their every move. He had insisted she stay home. Draco had reminded her to really think on her decision. Yet she pushed and pushed, and now, here she was, hiding in the bathroom before even entering the ballroom. If she had ventured in without wearing her wedding ring, the inevitable discovery would have been gossip fodder for the Daily Prophet. 

Turning off the water, Ginny let out another loud sigh. She couldn’t help her feelings, couldn’t help her anger that Draco had her ring this whole time while she was frantically worrying over it. But the knowledge that there were issues between them made her feel bad for slighting him. Maybe she _had_ willingly given it to him. And if that were true then it was her fault in the first place.

Merlin, she was so _sick_ of being kept in the dark about their relationship. 

“Ginevra Malfoy,” a voice purred as the bathroom door unexpectedly slammed shut.

Ginny looked up in surprise. She had barely noticed her surroundings while she brooded. How many people had walked in and out as she stiffly stood by the sink? 

The woman who approached was instantly familiar, only because of her pug nose and short black hair. Pansy Parkinson. Ginny’s lips twisted into a frown at the sight of the well-dressed witch but that was her only response to Parkinson’s greeting.

“I thought Draco was joking when he said you locked yourself in the bathroom,” Parkinson continued, her red lips curved into a smirk. “I shouldn’t have been surprised, I suppose.”

“Draco sent you?” Ginny asked, rubbing her forehead.

Pansy took note of the action before lifting a dainty shoulder in a shrug.

“Did you expect him to come in and drag you out himself?” she countered lightly, amused. “That would cause quite the scandal.”

Ginny leaned against the counter, wishing Parkinson would leave her to her thoughts. Draco had signed the divorce papers, he had her ring, she had been so distraught after seeing his signature that fateful day on the Quidditch pitch that he must have initiated the divorce… but if that were true, then why did he behave differently now? Other than their occasional quarrel, Draco seemed to really enjoy her company. Or maybe it was all an act, something to torture her with when she finally regained her memory. 

“Look,” Pansy spoke up after a long, silent moment, disrupting Ginny’s inner battle. “You can’t stay in here. Draco’s worried about you and it will do him some good to see you without that miserable look on your face. I know it can’t have been an easy past few days but you really need to—”

Ginny blinked at Pansy.

“How did you know?”

“About your little accident?” Pansy smirked, eyebrows lifting. “I’m one of Draco’s dearest friends, and he has no one else to talk to.”

Was she friends with Parkinson? Hermione had always disliked Pansy back in Hogwarts, so Ginny had followed her friend’s lead. Not that it was unwarranted; Parkinson was particularly nasty to any of Draco’s victims. On the other hand, if Pansy Parkinson was one of Draco’s best friends then it would make sense that Ginny and Pansy were at least cordial with each other. Ginny bit her lip and watched Pansy frown at the gesture.

“Come now,” Pansy ordered, clapping her hands together to divert Ginny’s attention. “You look less splotchy now. And we can’t stay locked in here forever, can we?”

Ginny pushed off the sink, nodding slightly. Pansy smiled and it looked less fierce than Ginny imagined. Together, they exited. Looping her arm through Ginny’s, Pansy leaned in close.

“That’s a girl,” Pansy told her, patting her forearm. “Just one step at a time. Were you rather proud of yourself for deciding to come to this ball tonight? Foolish, really, but you were a Gryffindor. These balls are an absolute nightmare, you haven’t been to one in ages. I’ve rather missed the entertainment.”

Besides arguing in the school corridors, this was the only conversation Ginny could recall having with Pansy. Pansy’s tone was snooty yet friendly, and Ginny relaxed further as the other woman led her to a cloak check. Both women shrugged off their cloaks, and a house-elf accepted both articles of clothing, giving a wide grin before disappearing to hang the cloaks. Taking her arm again, Pansy led Ginny into the ballroom.

“Hmm.” Pansy eyed her dress robes. “Those are rather nice.”

Ginny smiled weakly, brushing her hands over the gown self-consciously.

“Why are these Ministry balls so horrible?” she asked for lack of anything else to say. But she soon forgot about a response once she looked around. 

The ballroom rivaled the Great Hall during Christmas or the Yule Ball her third year. Large trees had been decorated and propped up in the corners of the room. Snowflakes descended from the ceiling, dotting the skin and clothing of the guests. Surprisingly, the snowflakes weren’t cold upon landing, instead fading away with what felt like a little kiss. Lit candles were scattered throughout the room, radiating extra light. The scene was white and snowy and pure.

Ginny felt that the ballroom was decorated similarly for the first Ministry ball, splendid and rich in color, old fashioned and elegant. The soft melodies of piano and violin in rhythm reached her ears. Large tables were aligned around the edges of the room, filled to capacity with food, and smaller tables were arranged nearby with several occupied by the attendees. Servers roamed, carrying trays loaded with drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

Her stomach grumbled as she was randomly led around the room. She encountered witches and wizards of all ages, several Veela that reminded Ginny of Fleur, a handful of goblins who stayed grouped together, gold flashing between their fingers, and… Merlin, was that a vampire? The last time she had seen a vampire was during her fifth year at Slughorn’s stupid party. Ginny scrutinized the pale, shadowy male, hoping to confirm her suspicions, but Pansy was looking at her expectantly.

“Are we searching for Draco?” Ginny inquired, not wanting to admit her inattention.

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“You’re hopeless,” she muttered. “No, we’re not going to Draco. He’s right over there, though, if you’d like to blow him a kiss.”

Ginny’s eyes followed the direction Pansy had pointed and saw Draco. He stood with two other guests, one whom Ginny recognized as Cho Chang. She had never been a fan of Cho, albeit Ginny was honest enough to admit that it was mostly envy over her past relationship with Harry. Seeing her next to Draco now did nothing to quell her feelings of distaste. As Pansy steered Ginny away, she noticed that her husband had glanced over, sensing her stare.

She was directed towards a table by a large window. Pansy released her hold on Ginny, dropping dramatically onto a chair with a loud sigh, and grabbing the half-full glass in front of her.

“Did you keep an eye on my drink, Blaise?” Pansy asked curtly.

A man Ginny hadn’t noticed had his back against the wall by their table. He stepped forward, flashing a shark-like smile at the two women.

“No one’s trying to poison you, love,” he responded.

Pansy sniffed in response, shrugging. Blaise. Blaise Zabini. The name took only a moment to register, not due to a flashback, but because she could remember what a git he had been at Hogwarts. Always too good for everyone else, flashing his wealth and social standing almost as much as Draco used to. 

Blaise Zabini still looked annoyingly handsome, dressed smartly in dark blue dress robes, and wearing a smile that would cause a regular witch to swoon. Ginny’s hackles startlingly rose.

“Blaise Zabini,” he greeted smoothly, extending a hand.

Ginny frowned, unwilling to accept his greeting.

“I know who you are,” she replied stiffly.

“Well, I figured, after your head was dented in the other day, I wouldn’t be remembered,” he informed her, unfazed. “I’m happy to hear of my importance to you.”

She shifted awkwardly.

“Draco told you too?”

Blaise shrugged, inspecting his clothes and picking off an invisible speck of lint. When he deemed the timing right, and when Ginny was beginning to get rather annoyed, he turned to her and responded.

“I’m Draco’s very best friend,” Blaise chided. “Of course he told me.”

Pansy shot Blaise a dark look but didn’t say anything. So, both Pansy and Blaise were Draco’s close friends and Ginny was left to fend for herself around them. She remained silent, not knowing what else to say. The ring incident was pushed to the back of her mind, though she continued to absently twist it. All she wanted now was to be with Draco and to talk to him. 

A server strolled by, asking for choice of drinks, and Ginny ordered wine. Blaise and Pansy requested additional drinks to their still full ones. Steeling herself, Ginny took the seat beside Pansy. The witch neither noticed nor cared, her dark eyes surveying the dance floor.

“I don’t remember you, not really,” Ginny admitted softly, eyeing the passers-by instead of looking at the pair. “Just from Hogwarts.”

Blaise peered at her, fascinated, and Pansy turned to observe Ginny. She felt as though she had bared her neck to them.

“How odd,” he said after a moment. “Hogwarts was my better years, I must admit. I’ve become rather lazy in my old age.”

“You haven’t missed much,” Pansy added. 

The trio sat in silence and it was comfortable, except Ginny noticed that Blaise stared at her intermittently. Ginny had never thought she would be married to Draco Malfoy, ever. And she certainly would never expect to be sitting at a table with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson whilst she waited for said husband. Finally, when Ginny was feeling restless without a drink in hand, the server appeared and distributed their drinks. Pansy downed her first one before abruptly standing.

“I’ll be back,” was all she said before disappearing into the crowd.

Ginny watched her go, frowning. She didn’t like that she was abandoned with Zabini for company, especially when he occupied Pansy’s seat and turned his full attention to Ginny. He was smiling. Taking a sip of her wine for comfort, Ginny awaited the interrogation. 

“Do you like your wine?” Blaise inquired, eyes darting to the glass in her hand then back to her face.

The dark, red wine tasted of cedar and black cherries. It rolled over her tongue easily and she couldn’t help but smile into her glass, glad for the warmth the wine brought her. Yes, she did like this wine. And she told him so. He nodded, shifting his attention back to his drink and humming softly to the beat of the music that played around them. 

“Why are you willing to keep me company?” Ginny asked suddenly, looking over at the man beside her.

He quietened, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Are you suggesting that I have no other friends?” he returned.

Before she could reply, because she had been wondering that, he pointed a finger at her.

“I have plenty of friends, Ginny dear, but you are my favorite. And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t take notes on what to tease you about once you’ve recovered your memory?” Blaise smirked at her. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d appreciate me a bit more, thank you very much.” 

Ginny couldn’t help it. She started laughing, and his smirk only grew. In a bizarre, twisted way, Blaise reminded Ginny of Fred. It was comforting. The unease she felt a moment ago was gone. She was content in his presence, as if her mind had told her that he truly was her friend. He swirled his glass, the ice clinking together softly. There were more guests in the ballroom now and Ginny couldn’t spot Draco no matter how hard she looked.

“Draco’s not your favorite?” she probed, shifting her gaze onto the dance floor just as Pansy had.

Had he gone dancing? The room bustled with guests walking towards and from every direction. Some went straight for the food, piling their plates high with savory and sweet treats. Others, like Draco, immediately found friends and coworkers to mingle with. A few lingered close to the bar, and the dance floor was continuously filling up with attendees entering from the entrance hall.

“No, no, far too moody,” Blaise confided. “Though you’ve been learning that over the past few days, haven’t you? Surely?”

Ginny tore her gaze from the crowd before her and peered at Blaise. There was a meaningful glint in his eye.

“You certainly learnt it quickly before,” he continued slowly, eyebrows rising.

“I’m afraid I’ve been the moody one,” she confessed, ignoring what he had said. “Head injury and all.”

She waved a hand around her head like she was swatting away a gnat. Blaise leaned closer to her, his voice dropping an octave.

“Come now, you must have questions,” Blaise prodded. “You wake up, and suddenly— Bam! You’re married to Draco bloody Malfoy, and you have three little rascals with him, whom I adore, by the way. How’s Orion? Did you let him mess with the Potions kit I bought for him yet? Never mind, never mind, you don’t remember. I’m sure he’s gotten into it already, with or without your permission—”

Blaise continued to ramble but Ginny was suddenly stuck on what he had said. She understood what he was discreetly offering. Any questions she had about Draco, he would answer. Her stomach began knotting itself and her palms becoming sweaty, Ginny took a large gulp of her wine. 

What did she want to know about Draco? What didn’t she want to know? Nothing about their predicament made sense to her. But now that she was presented with the opportunity to gain information, she was tongue tied. Did Blaise know about the divorce papers? Had Draco ever gone to Blaise and spoken of their troubles? Was the man before her, who was now blabbing about St. Mungo’s and their need for better healers, the one who had all the answers? Would he know why Draco had kept the ring hidden from her?

Ginny gnawed on her lip before shaking her head. Blaise Zabini, a stranger even though he was simultaneously a friend, was not the person to answer questions about her and Draco’s relationship. No, the only person with that duty was her husband. Blaise had ended his monologue and was staring at Ginny in amusement.

“I suppose that’s a no, then?” Blaise waved his drink at her. “You look lovely, by the way.” 

Her lips curled into a smile at the compliment.

“Really, what _is_ the point of these balls?” Ginny studied her surroundings again.

“Getting sloshed,” he answered solemnly. “Oh, and networking, I suppose. Holiday cheer. Being surrounded by friends before being shipped away to your family’s prison. Letting the public know that the government is well and good. Would you like another glass? You really must finish your wine sooner, that’s when you and I have the most fun.”

Ginny tilted her head, puzzled.

“What does that mean?”

“While Draco is _boring_ everyone with his ridiculous, _boring_ stories that only his work friends find entertaining, you and I look for friends to torture.”

So it was normal for Draco to leave Ginny alone at the events? Was that why he was reluctant for her to attend when she had offered? Because he knew that he was going to abandon her anyway? Or had it been because of the ring? The public façade they would have to wear once they left the house? Ginny shivered, trying not to let the possibilities needle her. She had insisted on coming, even after he had told her multiple times to think on it. On her own volition, she was there, sitting at a table with Blaise Zabini.

“Which friends do we torture?” she mumbled, trying to distract herself.

Blaise snickered.

“Pansy is our favorite victim—”

“Really?” Ginny’s voice rose in surprise.

She couldn’t imagine heckling Pansy in a friendly way. Blaise nodded, eyes sweeping the ballroom as Ginny’s had done. She guessed that it was in search of said woman. 

“Your brother, Percy, whenever he finds the time to pull his nose out of the Ministry officials’ arse—”

“I do have a question.”

Blaise fell silent as soon as Ginny interrupted him. The effects of the wine were beginning to seep into her system, boosting her confidence. She was probably going to be stuck with Blaise all night — if what he mentioned of Draco was true. 

“Well, go on,” he encouraged. 

Ginny reached up and pushed a curl out of her face, her hand lingering by her ear as she tucked the hair behind it. 

“What… what made Draco start to like me? I just— I never imagined he’d get over his hatred for my family and— it just doesn’t make sense. You know? And I can’t imagine it happened overnight,” she stuttered, flushing at Blaise’s keen stare. “And I just figured, it would, well, help ease my mind—”

“Oh, stop, this is torture,” Blaise pleaded, leaning back and grimacing. “You sound like a fifteen-year-old, asking after a crush.”

He didn’t laugh at her, though. With a sigh, Blaise tilted his head backwards and stared at the ceiling. Then his head snapped down so suddenly that she almost jumped.

“It happened in Hogwarts.”

“What did?” Ginny asked, still startled.

“His, I don’t know,” Blaise waved his drink around. “His not-quite-hatred of you.”

Blaise shrugged, looking less than elegant for the first time since he sat at the table.

“How did that happen?” 

“Well,” now he looked rather rigid. “He told me you had said something to him during his last year, before the war. Can’t remember for the life of me what it was, but whatever you said to him really messed him up. Do you remember that?”

Ginny struggled to recall her sixth year at Hogwarts, and anything that might have been related to Draco. Nothing came to mind. Her sixth year had contained mainly torturous detentions, and classes spent performing Dark magic on her own friends. Neville, Ginny, and Luna had made an effort to rattle Snape and the Carrows as often as possible. But she could hardly remember any interactions with Draco. If anything, Ginny was pretty sure they had avoided each other, until the war.

She shook her head, upset that she couldn’t remember an important milestone in her relationship that she _should_ be able to. 

“I’m not saying that what happened between you and Draco was immediate,” Blaise continued. “More like… eight years? Nine?”

“What’s Blaise chatting your ear off about?” a voice whispered, lips close to her ear as he slid onto a nearby chair with ease.

Ginny went stiff when her mind registered Draco’s arrival. He nodded at Blaise, whose smirk had grown twofold at his friend’s presence. The combination of wine, Blaise’s mischievous smirk, and her deep-seated anger over her wedding ring made Ginny feel rather bold.

“He was just telling me how you’d fallen in love with me back in Hogwarts,” she replied, carefully watching his expression.

Draco choked on his drink, causing it to spray out of his mouth, dampening the table cloth and parts of Ginny’s dress. Blaise laughed out loud. Ginny didn’t hold her own giggles, body heaving so hard that she had to lean back on the chair.

“I see that your lack of discretion hasn’t changed,” Blaise trilled to Ginny, delighted. “And, allow it to be noted, I never said you fell in love with her at Hogwarts. I believe I was about to say something along the lines of that she had won you over, and you were hers from then on. Wooing her to be yours, I fear, took a little longer.”

Draco’s face was the reddest Ginny had ever seen. She shared a smile with Blaise, whose joy at his friend’s discomfort was contagious. He winked at her, clearly impressed. She supposed they did enjoy tormenting their friends together.

“Thanks for distracting her, mate,” Draco drawled, attempting to maintain his dignity. “Shall we dance?”

He grabbed her hand and rose to his feet before she could protest. Huffing, Ginny allowed him to tug her off the chair. Draco ushered her to the dance floor, finding a roomy spot for both their comfort. Spinning her once, he pulled her close to his front, his hand pressing intimately against the small of her back, and the other clasping her hand to their side. Ginny swallowed at their proximity; Draco’s relieved expression, following his successful proposal, popping into her mind’s eye. Then, she remembered his indifference over slipping her wedding ring on her finger right before Apparating to the function.

Her good humor promptly left her as they danced silently. The couples around them laughed and chatted while they swayed to the music. Ginny felt inexplicably tense as he held her, and even the slight space between them bothered her.

“So you’ve finally decided to leave your coworkers and see what your wife was up to?” Ginny fumed as quietly as she could.

Draco’s eyebrows arched, his lips tugging downwards. He didn’t look at her, acting as though she wasn’t worth his undivided attention.

“How was lunch with your mother, then?” he asked, casually ignoring her question and her obvious annoyance. “And which sisters-in-law were you bothered by today? Audrey, who’s as nearly as insufferable as her husband? I’d ask about Fleur but she tends to be busy with other things than lunch with hens. Perhaps Angelina then, hm? She’s always such a _pleasure_ to be around. I’m sure Granger was there— she never misses an opportunity to stick her nose into other people’s business.”

He paused.

“It’s rather odd that your brothers went for such bossy, overbearing women, isn’t it?”

“Speaking of time with family,” Ginny shot back, heated. “How’s Lucius doing in Azkaban? Is his prison cell large enough? I’m sure you’ve devoted enough of your inheritance towards ensuring he has at least a blanket and pillow in there; comforts any surviving Death Eater would be lucky to have.”

He tensed, his frown deepening. Before she could savor the satisfaction from her verbal damage, however, Draco relaxed, his face clearing of emotion.

“Ah, Ginny, dear, if you would’ve made any attempt at acquainting yourself with the man who raised me, you’d find you’d rather like him,” Draco retorted, his hand on her back flexing. “You’re both very similar.”

“Is that so?” she growled softly.

“Manipulative and stubborn, with little concern for those around you, who’re affected by your _horrible_ decisions,” he said coldly, still avoiding her gaze. “Yes, I’d say you’re both alike.”

Her eyes narrowed. Funny, she couldn’t help but think that Draco was describing himself.

“Yes, I’m sure we’d get along swell,” she said through clenched teeth, flashing a tight-lipped smile at a couple dancing beside them. “If he hadn’t tried to kill me during my first year at Hogwarts.”

Draco smirked coldly, and her breath caught in her throat at the vicious gesture.

“Thank Merlin Potter was there,” he responded smoothly.

Ginny snorted inelegantly, her brief shock gone.

“Right, Harry, your new best friend,” she mocked. 

Ginny noted that a muscle in his jaw jumped, and a flash of triumph shot through her. Tilting her head, she continued speaking.

“You’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger now, don’t you?”

“If only I could say the same for you.”

The conversation paused as Draco spun Ginny. Her feet moved without hesitation, and their eyes met when she faced him once more. He pulled her close again, his hand returning to its previous spot on her back and his eyes darting away from hers, and she fought the urge to step closer— whether to strangle him or hug him close, she wasn’t sure. 

“This is one of my favorite fights of ours,” he continued as they resumed dancing in step. “I did tell you to deeply consider coming to this ball, darling.”

Favorite fights? Did they repeatedly argue about his lack of attention towards her at these Ministry events? The hairs on Ginny’s arms rose, instinctively knowing the answer.

_Yes._

“I came for _you_ ,” she intoned sharply. “You told me you liked it when I attended Ministry events with you.”

“I normally do,” Draco drawled, gaze flickering over her head. “I’m not sure I’ve ever managed to make you hate me before we’ve stepped into the ballroom. This is a first.”

What she hated was his tone — it sounded like he was both teasing and accusing her. 

“Well, _I’m_ not sure you’ve returned my wedding ring before a formal event either,” Ginny seethed.

Draco’s grip on her hand tightened yet he still wouldn’t look at her. And she hated it. He was intentionally attempting to get under her skin, she knew, and it was working. 

“I’ve been wondering about this ring for days— since I woke up at St. Mungo’s, and you’ve had it the whole time. You didn’t care that I was working myself into a panic—”

“A panic?” Draco laughed but it was icy and short. “You haven’t been panicking. After the first time you asked, you’ve never asked about it again!”

“Because that first conversation went so well!” Ginny snapped back. “And if we weren’t here, if I decided to not come, you would have never mentioned that you had the ring. I would’ve been left— just clueless until my memory came back—”

“ _You_ gave it back to _me_ ,” Draco hissed, and now his full attention was on her.

They had stopped dancing in the middle of their argument, and Ginny felt something indescribable shatter within her. Perhaps it was the fragile friendship that they had built. His eyes were steely from fury, and Ginny withdrew her hands to step away from him. Draco, for the first time, looked absolutely terrifying as he glared down at her. 

“It’s no longer yours to claim,” he retorted, bending down so that only she could hear what he said next. “I regret even returning it to you.” 

Draco meaningfully glanced at the ring on her finger, and she panicked for a brief second, thinking he was going to pry it off her finger. Ginny shielded it from his gaze with her free hand, and glared back. Eventually, he turned and stomped off the dance floor. 

Ginny watched him leave, losing sight of his retreating back after a couple spun in front of her. She bit on her lip to keep it from trembling. She wasn’t upset, no. She was furious. He was prolonging a squabble they possibly had from ages ago, a fight that she had no recollection of, and it was hardly fair. Ginny was done with letting him upset her, and running away whenever he pushed harder. If she remained docile, he would inevitably win every battle, every tiff between them.

Perhaps, before, she had felt her patience crumble, and her resolve grew in its place. Ginny took a deep breath before darting through the dancing couples, on the hunt for her husband. When she finally stumbled off the dance floor, having collided into two women, who had thrown her dirty looks, she looked around quickly. A random man jumped out of her way, fearing he was the target of her heated stare. She spotted Blaise. Blaise waved a hand, clearly amused by the spectacle, and walked away from a woman, whom he had been chatting up, towards Ginny.

“Lovers’ quarrel?” he asked knowingly.

Ginny scowled.

“Where’d he go?” Ginny demanded, crossing her arms. 

Blaise smirked before nodding his head towards the tall glass doors that led outside. Of course. He _would_ head back into the winter wonderland. Miffed at the idea of wandering into the cold, Ginny braced herself nonetheless. It was still snowing, and her cloak was out of her immediate reach. A warming charm would have to suffice. She waved her wand mechanically, grateful for the heat that blanketed her, before stepping outside. 

Ginny was momentarily distracted by the beauty of the snow-covered landscape, earlier woes forgotten.

The doors led to a balcony that overlooked a large yard, untouched by the partiers inside the ballroom. Snow fell gently and silence enveloped the area. A fountain continued to operate despite the weather, and fairy lights intertwined around the railing assisted with general visibility. As Ginny ventured further, she noticed a couple standing in the shadows of the night, lost in each other. Nearby, a tiny group of four smoked and laughed. Passing them by carefully, Ginny searched for her husband.

Where the hell was he?

Ginny didn’t see him anywhere in the immediate area. Spying a set of stairs, off to the left, she lingered around, peering down and wondering if he had gone to the yard by himself. In spite of the warming charm, the frigid air nipped at her skin. The dress robe barely covered much, and goosebumps had broken out across her skin. Going down the stairs in order to continue her search was the last thing she wanted to do.

Sadly, she was lacking another option. 

“Headed for a late night stroll?” was uttered into her ear right as she geared herself for the first step.

She yelped, and a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her back. Ginny swiveled, narrowing her eyes when she saw Draco. He released his hold and stepped back.

“Have you been hiding out here?” Ginny asked, trying to infuse her words with residual anger, and failing.

Draco smirked but shook his head; he, too, seemed to have lost his icy wrath.

“You should’ve known better than to listen to Blaise,” Draco lightly admonished. “I wasn’t out here to begin with.”

Ginny frowned. So Zabini had forced her outside to mess with her? Or, perhaps, he had wanted them to sort out their disagreement? A shiver raced up her back and Ginny looked away.

“You can’t fight with me about things I still don’t understand,” she ordered after a long moment, though her voice faltered.

She gulped in some air, and then lifted her left hand, turning it so that he could see their wedding ring.

“Especially since you’re so keen on keeping me in the dark,” Ginny continued. “It’s not fair and I don’t deserve it.”

Unless she did deserve it. Ginny couldn’t assess his reaction as she found that staring at the group of smokers was a reprieve from Draco’s piercing gaze. But she heard his soft sigh, and could feel his warm breath fan her face. Then, with a gentle finger, he directed her face towards his. His eyes were bright, and Ginny found herself relaxing at the sight of the swirling gray.

“I have been very selfish over the past few days,” he admitted softly. 

He ran a hand over his face.

“You had asked after your wedding ring, and instead of telling you where it was, I kept it tucked away in my pocket. I was… holding a power over you that I didn’t understand, or maybe I did but… the last ten years have not always been easy for us. And I’ve been avoiding bringing you into the light of the situation, which isn’t fair to you, I know that. But to do so would be admitting certain things I’ve liked to ignore.”

His words loosened a weight inside of her, and she sighed. Draco looked ready to continue, but Ginny stopped him. If he was about to mention the divorce papers, and explain the downs in the marriage, she didn’t want to have the conversation here. For some reason or another, Ginny wasn’t sure she was ready to hear any of it in spite of her frustration from being left oblivious. So, she steered the conversation elsewhere. 

“It’s not entirely your fault. I’ve barely asked you about anything. I’m the one who’s been selfish and stuck in my own little bubble. Bloody hell, Draco, I didn’t even know you were lying to me earlier today,” Ginny said quietly.

His eyebrows furrowed.

“Lying to you? About what?”

Ginny shrugged uneasily. She hated acknowledging that she had messed up, that she had never once thought to ask about their life — his life — that she had been too afraid.

“You’re the one who made Azkaban safer for the children to visit,” she croaked. “You told me it was Harry, and I never questioned it, but it was really you.”

Draco looked decidedly uncomfortable when Ginny inspected his features. Everything about Draco that had once made her insides burn with disgust, she now found… charming. Even now, she wanted to forgive him, she wanted them to be on good terms again, she wanted her _friend_ back.

Twisting her hands in front of her, Ginny took a step closer to him. Heat radiated from him, and she shivered. Draco studied her intensely before nodding to the doors. 

“You’re cold,” he noted. “We should head back inside.”

Everyone else on the balcony had left. Save for the music from the ballroom, silence permeated the surroundings. Ginny realized she didn’t wish to head back in. Draco would go to his coworkers and Ginny would sit with Blaise, with his omniscient stare, and their unspoken understanding would be lost. 

She shook her head.

“I’m fine, I—” she shook her head again, hoping it would clear her thoughts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He leaned back against the wall, perplexed.

“My job has always been a sensitive subject between us,” Draco revealed, the words slow as though he was carefully considering each one. 

Ginny’s eyebrows rose and she moved to rest next to him. Her arm brushed against his, and she leaned into him slightly so that she could leech onto his warmth. She noticed his lips crack into a smile. Draco reached into his robes and extracted a silver case. It popped open and revealed a row of cigarettes. He pulled one out and pressed it in between his lips. Ginny watched, captivated.

“You smoke?” she latched onto the topic change. 

Draco lit the cigarette and nodded.

“Sometimes,” he responded.

Ginny reached over, after he inhaled his first puff, and snatched it out of his fingers. His eyes traced her movement as she mimicked his previous actions and placed the cigarette in between her lips. 

“You haven’t smoked with me in years,” Draco informed her, and Ginny rolled her eyes, inhaling deeply. 

The acrid smoke burned her throat, but she refused to cough. Not in front of Draco’s critical gaze.

“Draco, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the same woman I was four days ago,” Ginny pointed out. “Lost a decade of memories, you know. Everything seems a little different to me now.”

“I’ve noticed,” he muttered, mindful of her exhalation fading in front of him.

She handed him the cigarette, hating the itch in her throat, and frowned.

“So… apparently, I hate your job?” she finally asked, resting her sight on the view before them. 

His smile faded as he took another drag.

“You didn’t used to,” Draco mumbled, pensive. “But I got promoted and things changed. My hours away from home lengthened but the world was changing rapidly around us, and I was afraid for the children and their future as Malfoys. If I could just change _something_ for the better, anything, then maybe life would be a little easier for them.”

While he spoke, her attention drifted back to him, and she wondered at the desperation in his heartfelt words. Ginny nudged him lightly with her elbow, feeling her stomach twist. He passed her the cigarette. It was almost completely burnt out, so she braved a long pull. She coughed. 

“Am I heartless? Have you ever told me that?” Ginny said once she was breathing easily.

Was she heartless? Why wouldn’t she be proud of Draco for doing what he thought was right for his family? Ginny leaned her head against the stone wall and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine being home alone with the children for days on end, not seeing her husband as often as she preferred. It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“No, you’re not heartless,” Draco’s voice floated over. “We simply… haven’t been seeing eye to eye.”

She opened her eyes then and turned to him. He had been studying her. Ginny dropped the cigarette stub and snuffed it out with the toe of her shoe.

“Do you often abandon me to Zabini at these balls?”

Draco looked mildly offended. The mood abruptly changed; Ginny felt that they were on an equal playing field again, that their delicate friendship was back.

“I don’t abandon you,” he scoffed. 

Ginny made a mocking sound of agreement.

“The first hour of the ball was _lovely_ without you,” she replied sarcastically. “Tons of time spent with Zabini and Parkinson. For someone who’d said he didn’t really want to attend, you seemed rather at home.”

He appeared ready to retaliate then stopped. After a moment, he pointed a finger at her.

“These Ministry events are for networking—”

“Yes, yes, Blaise told me,” Ginny cut him off, fighting a grin at his indignant expression.

“—and you don’t see any use in professional networking, so you tend to stay with Blaise and Pansy,” he finished weakly.

She didn’t bother with a response. Draco blew out a long breath, crossing his arms and glancing around. They watched the snow fall together, and Ginny shuddered again. Merlin, it was freezing. When she sniffed loudly, Draco leaned into her.

“Let’s go back inside,” he prompted. “It’s rather cold out, isn’t it?”

Ginny pushed off the wall and spun around to face him.

“Only if you don’t abandon me in there,” Ginny commanded. “You have to promise not to abandon me.”

He took two steps towards her, into her personal space, and she stared up at him. 

“You do like hanging out with Blaise,” he reassured her. 

“I’m not here to hang out with Blaise,” she replied instantly.

Goosebumps dotted across her skin, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the crisp air or the softness in his eyes.

“I won’t abandon you,” Draco told her sincerely. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like I had.”

They held each other’s gaze for a long while before Ginny laughed, hoping to lighten the tension.

“Okay, good,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself and turning to the doors.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

“I’m rather surprised to see you out and about, Ginny. How is it possible that you’ve managed to get through the night thus far without everyone discovering your lacking memory?”

Ginny glared over at her brother, annoyed. Percy Weasley had made his presence known an hour or two after Draco and Ginny had scurried inside. As pompous and smug as ever, he had immediately sat beside Ginny to lecture her on her appearance at a Ministry event. Draco had caught her eye several times, not bothering to hide his smirk as he sipped his scotch, before turning his attention back to Pansy and Blaise.

The last couple of hours at the Ministry ball had helped Ginny realize exactly what Blaise had warned her of. Networking was a chore but, because Ginny had made Draco promise not to leave her, she was learning everything she never knew. With her hand tucked in his arm, she and Draco had navigated through the circus of the Ministry ball, Draco introducing her to people she should recognize yet didn’t. He had seemed to find wicked satisfaction in letting her guess how well she knew the people she had met. Upon prompting her with a _“Darling, you remember this person, don’t you?”_ , Ginny would decide whether to shake the person’s hand or give a hug or the occasional kiss on the cheek.

Every now and then, Ginny had chosen unwisely — to the surprise of the victim receiving the unwelcomed kiss on the cheek or the good friend who was confused as to why she only shook their hand. In order to forget her embarrassment, she had imbibed more wine, and Draco began drinking scotch. Then she had forced him over to the table she had sat at earlier so that she could get away from the strangers. Ginny had been sure he would protest, having been interrupted in his networking quest, but he didn’t. Instead, he had dutifully followed her and sat next to Pansy, whose face had lit up at the sight of the couple.

And then Percy had shown up.

“I recommend you visit St. Mungo’s again,” Percy continued, and Ginny focused on her brother, eyes darting away from Draco. “It’s quite odd that you haven’t had any memories resurface. How long has it been, Ginny? Three days? Four?”

“Four,” Ginny answered shortly, sighing.

She loved Percy, she really did. But sometimes she didn’t _like_ Percy. Right now, all she wanted to do was shush him and walk away. 

“Four days of absolutely no memories from the last decade? How odd… very odd,” Percy mused.

“Percy, really, you don’t have to worry about me,” Ginny responded, trying to sound sweet, as she reached over to pat his hand. “I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”

Was she on her third glass of wine? Or fourth? Regardless, she was feeling warm, fuzzy, and relaxed. The wine also made her thoughts wander to dangerous places. Again, she pondered over the wedding ring on her finger. When light reflected the sapphire, her eyes were immediately drawn to the stone, studying it. Draco had remarked that she had returned the ring to him. So her assumptions that he had taken the ring after signing the papers were not true.

The mere idea of her past actions, with how she had felt on the Quidditch pitch prior to her accident and the despair over losing her husband, made no sense. Furthermore, Ginny was certain that Draco would have broached the divorce papers, had she allowed him to, while they were on the balcony. He would have explained why he kept the ring, why she had given it back, why certain subjects were taboo for him. Draco would have told her what she had so desperately needed to know.

Alas, she was too much of a coward to hear him out.

“Are you listening to me, Ginny?” Percy’s voice pierced her thoughts.

Ginny turned to him and offered a bright smile. He didn’t appear convinced. Blaise, who had fixed his attention from Draco and Pansy to Ginny and Percy, grinned.

“I’m sure your conversation was simply _thrilling_ ,” Blaise told Percy.

Percy frowned and sniffed loudly.

“I don’t understand why you insist on hanging around him,” he muttered to Ginny, pretending he didn’t hear Blaise.

“Me neither,” Ginny admitted, taking another sip of her drink.

“Come now, you don’t mean that!” Blaise cried out, dragging his chair so that he was positioned between the siblings. “We’re wonderfully good friends, aren’t we, Percy?”

Her older brother barely looked amused but Ginny was already smiling at the duo.

“You were always a bother,” Percy told Blaise, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Especially at Hogwarts. Thought that was the end of having to deal with you. Did you know, Ginny, that I gave out more detentions to Zabini than any other student?”

Ginny’s eyebrows lifted at the information, and Blaise shrugged, unbothered. 

“What were the detentions for?” Ginny asked.

“Bullying first years, harassing female students from other houses, destruction of school property—” Percy counted off each event with his fingers.

By the time he was done, he was on his second hand. Blaise appeared openly delighted at the remembrance of his mischief, gazing fondly into the distance.

“Who was your partner in crime?” Ginny questioned, eyeing the handsome man. “I don’t remember seeing you with Draco when he was causing trouble.”

Blaise scoffed loudly.

“Draco? I didn’t need him and his ragtag team. I was very much a loner back in school.” He paused, tilting his head mock thoughtfully. “What can I say? I suppose I just liked causing trouble whenever Percy was around. There’s something irresistible about making you Weasleys angry.”

Percy’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses and Ginny giggled. Draco turned in his seat upon hearing his friend, lifting his scotch in salute.

“Irresistible yet dangerous,” Draco called out.

Their eyes met and Ginny’s mind wandered again as she held his gaze. In spite of her wedding ring and the mystery of the divorce papers, she couldn’t help feeling drawn to her husband. Bloody hell, she enjoyed being around the prat. A lot. Hermione’s words echoed in her head.

_Once you and Draco moved past your old rivalry, the both of you immediately got along rather well._

Ginny _did_ like his company. She liked his soft smiles around the children and the tender way he searched her face while he tried to figure out what she was thinking. There was a semblance of comfort in the way he teased her, and there was a familiarity to his anger when they fought. He cared about her and, deep down, she was aware of that. 

How quickly things had changed in four days.

“Don’t you have someone to kiss up to?” Blaise drawled and Ginny looked at them.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” Percy snapped.

He unceremoniously pushed away from the table and, after pressing a kiss to Ginny’s temple, walked off.

“Not nearly as fun as when you’re helping me tease him,” Blaise informed her, frowning. “I’m afraid I’m slightly mean.”

She snorted.

“I’m not sure why that surprises you,” Ginny replied. “Percy did just list your history of detentions. Evidently, you weren’t a good student.”

“But, that doesn’t mean I was cruel,” he answered coolly. “Unlike your husband.”

Ginny sighed. There was no denying that fact. Before she could stand — she would really like another glass of wine, or perhaps a glass of water — Blaise grabbed onto her wrist. She froze at the contact, surprised, and he tugged her back into her seat. His expression had darkened, reminding her of the sour-faced boy from Hogwarts, and she waited. Then, he leaned in, his voice low, eyes inquisitive. 

“You owe me,” he began softly. “For the question earlier.”

The question about Draco’s feelings towards her. Ginny’s eyes narrowed sharply. Although she wasn’t surprised that he was calling in on the favor — since he was apparently one of her better friends — she couldn’t help but wonder why. Perhaps he knew that she didn’t fully trust him yet. Frowning, she nodded.

“Alright, then.”

He shifted in his chair.

“Have you spoken to Luna recently?”

Ginny jerked away, as if stung, and a strong scent flooded her senses. Disinfectant. Blaise’s sudden mention of Luna, her name on his tongue, brought a memory to surface. She barely had time to breathe before it rushed towards her.

_“Luna, are you alright?” Ginny released Lyra’s hand to hurry to her friend._

_Luna looked tired and pale, her stringy blonde hair pulled away from her face. She appeared younger and so very sad. Her hand reached out, a faint smile stretching her lips, as she glanced from Ginny to Lyra. Ginny followed her gaze, squeezing Luna’s hand, and tried to imagine herself in her friend’s place._

_“Ginny?” Luna whispered._

_Ginny peeled her gaze from her daughter and turned to Luna, her expression soft._

_“What is it?”_

_Luna’s smile was shaky as she inhaled then exhaled._

_“Promise not to tell Blaise?”_

_There was no dreaminess in her voice. She didn’t sound like her regular self. It angered Ginny, instinctively ready to protect Luna, yet it saddened her as well. Ginny wanted to defy Luna’s request but she couldn’t. Instead, she nodded._

_“Of course.”_

Blaise’s stare had fixated on Ginny. She blinked owlishly, perspiration beading along her forehead, and looked away from him. Her mouth was dry, and she could sense the anger and sadness, rising again. What had happened to Luna? Ginny stood again and Blaise rose with her, still holding onto her wrist.

She shook him off but looked up at him earnestly. 

“No, no, I haven’t.”

Ginny moved her head, and the world around her seemed to operate at a slower pace. She hated the small glimpses into her memories. Something was wrong with Luna, and Ginny had to find her. The hopelessness she felt and the desire to protect were suffocating her yet she refused to succumb. Not here, not now. 

Blaise observed her.

“I’m worried about her,” Blaise confided.

Ginny wiped her forehead with a shaky hand, nodding. 

“Me too,” she agreed honestly, instantly.

There was an emotion in Blaise’s gaze that Ginny couldn’t place — a secret that only the both of them knew. It gripped at her insides and she bit her lip hard, trying to think, to remember anything else. She was unsure if she truly wanted to or because of how bloody lost she felt. She squeezed her eyes closed then reopened them. Blaise had the answers, which she knew surely. If he had been willing to talk about Draco then he would tell her about Luna.

“Blaise, what’s going on—”

“Ginny? Help me finish this, won’t you?” Draco suddenly materialized beside the pair.

He pressed his glass into her other hand as he took in their position, an eyebrow rising. Ginny nervously brought it to her nose, hoping the alcohol would ease the emotions within her. A careful sniff confirmed that his drink was scotch. Her face scrunched in disdain and Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Finish your own drink, will you? We’re having a conversation,” Blaise snapped, his easygoing demeanor all but gone.

Draco frowned, eyes darting from Blaise to Ginny then back to Blaise. Then he sneered, though the action lacked malice.

“So sorry to intrude,” he drawled sarcastically. “But we have children at home and I think we ought to leave soon. Mother will be expecting us, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

None of them moved, so Draco leaned over and tapped his nail against the glass in Ginny’s hand. She raised it to her lips, sipping experimentally as Blaise huffed. The scotch burned a trail down her throat, following the path the cigarette smoke had taken hours ago, and she grimaced. However, it warmed her belly faster than the wine, and she took another sip. 

Blaise groaned deep in his throat once he realized that Draco had no intention of leaving Ginny’s side. He embraced Ginny, pulling her close and holding on tight. With his lips to her ear, Blaise whispered.

“Talk to Luna.”

Then he hugged Draco, a show of affection that surprised Ginny greatly. The scotch was dulling the intensity of her emotions, though, helping her ignore the fear that Blaise had unknowingly provoked. She smiled up at Draco when Blaise eventually walked away. Draco smirked back, reaching up and brushing a curl from her face. 

“Are you done with this?” Ginny questioned, voice catching in her throat when his fingers lingered.

Draco blinked in surprise, looking down at his — hers, now — drink before shrugging.

“I’ve had one too many, I’m afraid.”

She giggled into the glass. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Draco was drunk. Either he was a lightweight or Ginny hadn’t noticed how much he had been drinking. Shortly after realizing that Floo would be the best option, because neither wanted to splinch the other, they headed home. Different fireplaces zoomed past before she was coughed out, stumbling through the library and barely catching herself on a couch. Her husband fell out inelegantly behind her.

“I think someone’s drugged me,” Draco groaned once he caught sight of Ginny.

She laughed.

“Or you can’t handle your liquor,” she quipped.

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms as he approached her.

“I am an excellent drinker,” he drawled.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” she responded mockingly, patting his arm when he was close. “By the way, you’ve got some soot on your face.”

A long, gray line of ash marred his skin. Ginny reached up and wiped at it with her fingers, noting his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. She couldn’t resist giggling when the stain firmly remained on his cheek.

“Just get it off, will you?” Draco grumbled, reaching up and rubbing at his cheek as well. “I’ve got it. I’ll head to the loo; stay here.”

He left the library quickly, steps steadier than before. Despite being drunk, he hardly appeared so. Sighing happily, Ginny turned and began walking towards the window. With the continuous snowfall, she envisioned the grounds to look undoubtedly enchanting. She only managed two steps before she spotted Narcissa, perched on the windowsill.

“O— oh, I didn’t even—” Ginny stammered then paused, taking a breath. “… We didn’t notice you.”

Narcissa looked more human than when she had left for Azkaban with Draco and the children. Her bun had been undone, allowing her long hair to flow freely, and she had a gentle, sincere smile on her face. She tilted her head as Ginny hesitated to approach.

“Come, do sit with me,” Narcissa beckoned, pointing at the open spot next to her.

Ginny cleared her throat, suddenly wishing that she hadn’t finished Draco’s scotch. Her sluggish senses wouldn’t help her in her current predicament. Sliding onto the seat, Ginny glanced over at Narcissa, who was staring at her intently.

“I was right, of course,” the older woman proclaimed, as though continuing a conversation. “Those dress robes look alluring on you. And the color brings out your eyes rather well.”

“Oh. Yes, thank you,” Ginny said, smoothing down her evening wear.

She hoped that it wasn’t terribly wrinkled or that there was an obnoxious stain on the fabric.

“How was… How was Azkaban?” Ginny asked when the silence between them stretched on.

Narcissa smiled again, seeming both tired and happy. She shifted towards Ginny, hands folded in her lap, as she sighed.

“It was good to see Lucius,” Narcissa told her. “He was very happy to see the children. And Draco, of course. He’s doing well.”

She paused, her keen, blue eyes studying Ginny. 

“I’m happy to see that you and Draco are also doing well,” Narcissa confided, surprising Ginny. “I won’t tell you that I thought highly of you when Draco’s courtship first began, because I won’t lie to you. But I’m glad that you’ve built a strong partnership with my son.”

Ginny couldn’t respond. Draco wasn’t here, and Narcissa didn’t know about her recent accident. What was there to say? Was a thank you appropriate? The way Narcissa spoke, the way her eyes watched Ginny knowingly, made Ginny wonder if Narcissa knew more than expected. Taking a deep breath, Ginny’s gradual response was a wary smile.

“A Malfoy man needs a strong woman in his life, Ginevra, and I regret not talking to you before your wedding. Committing to Draco… was a great sacrifice for you. I had the same experience when I was younger, in love just as you were, looking for something more in a man. It is in their blood, Ginevra. Do you understand? It is in the blood of Malfoy men to always raise their societal standing, to always be on top, and to ensure their children are there with them.”

Ginny shook her head, holding up a hand to attempt to halt Narcissa’s speech. She didn’t know what to say. The words held a deeper meaning, from the sincerity in Narcissa’s tone. But she couldn’t listen, couldn’t keep up, her thought process slow. Bloody scotch.

“Draco’s not like that,” Ginny managed, and Narcissa blinked in shock.

“Don’t you think so?” Narcissa asked, bewildered. “It’s not a bad thing, you must see that. Your children will always be cared for. Isn’t every mother’s worry that something horrible will happen to her children? That they will not lead a better life than her own? Malfoy men always provide for their children, in their own way. Lucius’ way was wrong even though it once wasn’t. It’s challenging to stay with a man who worries over their last name more than they worry over you. Malfoy men are lucky that they attract women who are utterly devoted to them through the ups and downs. In spite of it all, we will always love them.”

The sound of impending footsteps stopped Narcissa from speaking further. She slid off the windowsill, glancing deliberately at Ginny, before greeting her son. Draco looked surprised but pleased to see his mother, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I was wondering where you had gone, mother,” Draco said, eyes darting to Ginny. “How were the children?”

“They were fine,” Narcissa responded, her tone light despite the conversation she had with Ginny. “Asleep in their beds. I really must be going, however. I’m rather tired myself. Will you show me out, Draco?”

Ginny shivered, watching Narcissa leave with a troubled gaze. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

When Draco and Ginny found themselves in the bedroom, she tried not to focus on him too intently. It was hard not to, however. His face was losing its color and his eyes were beginning to droop from exhaustion. Ginny kicked off her heels before grabbing some pajamas from the drawers and heading towards the bathroom. She wasn’t sure undressing in front of him was the best option, especially when her mind was whirling with possibilities. 

What exactly had Narcissa seen between Draco and Ginny?

The older woman’s words wouldn’t leave her thoughts. _Committing to Draco… was a great sacrifice for you._ Everything was so complicated. Ginny yanked off her dress, and pulled on the shorts and T-shirt. Then she peeked out of the bathroom, noting that Draco had also discarded his formal wear and was now in his briefs. He turned when he heard the door open.

“You may not be happy to hear this, Weasley,” Draco smirked as she stepped out of the bathroom. “But I think we’ll have to share a bed again.”

Ginny smiled at the familiarity of her last name on his lips. It had the same haughty curl from Hogwarts, when he used to spit her last name like an insult, but there was a hint of affection now. She walked over to bed and sat down on her side.

She actually didn’t mind sharing the bed again. 

“Well, why’s that?” she couldn’t help but tease. “I would’ve quite liked the bed to myself.”

Draco flopped onto the bed, taking a deep breath.

“Lyra’s had a habit of sneaking into our room when she has nightmares,” Draco told her, pulling up the blankets so that he could slide under them. “Don’t think it’d go over well if she discovered that I was sleeping on the floor.” 

Couldn’t deny that, Ginny thought as she too crawled under the sheets. The lights automatically faded around them and Ginny sighed, burrowing deeper into the covers to ward off the cold. Draco was already still, caught in the clutches of sleep.

“Hey, Draco,” Ginny called, jolting him awake.

She refused to feel bad. Why did he get to sleep while her mind was spinning rapidly out of control?

“Yes, love,” he mumbled back.

Staring at his profile in the darkness, Ginny could faintly distinguish the sharp point of his nose, the curve of his lips. She shuddered although it had nothing to do with the cold.

“What did I say to make you not hate me?” she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open and focused on her. 

“Blaise was telling you about Hogwarts,” Draco muttered, laughter evident in his tone. “I thought you were both lying to rattle me.”

He didn’t sound angry and Ginny laughed as well, shaking her head. 

“Not lying, just trying to piss you off in general,” she responded lightly.

Draco smiled and went quiet. His eyes shut again, and Ginny was sure he had fallen asleep, when he suddenly spoke.

“You had a detention with Amycus Carrow; do you remember?”

Ginny struggled to think back — it seemed so long ago now. Her sixth year had been filled with detentions from the Carrows, and she couldn’t remember any with Draco.

“He brought you in as a _volunteer_ for my class… that was your punishment.”

_A test subject for the Cruciatus curse,_ the memory whispered to her. She could remember Carrow dragging her into the seventh year Slytherin and Gryffindor Dark Arts class. It was the first class of the morning, and her second or third real punishment by the Carrows. She and Seamus had been plotting to vandalize the entrance hall the previous night, and she had been caught when they ran away. 

“He made you pick your torturer,” Draco’s voice was clearer, and she stared at him.

His eyes remained closed but his lips were pulled back slightly, as if the memory troubled him. And, for once, Ginny knew why that was… because she had chosen him to perform the curse. Bloody hell, she had forgotten about that detention, having buried it, with all the other horrible events of that year, deep in the back of her mind.

“You chose me. And… and after the class, after you had been lying there in agony, he made me take you to the hospital wing.”

She reached out and pressed her fingers onto the back of his exposed hand. He fidgeted then relaxed under her touch. Ginny hardly remembered anything else during the class. After Draco had performed the Cruciatus curse, she had blacked out, awakening in the hospital wing later in the evening. No one had told her Draco had brought her to the hospital wing for help. Students being forced to perform horrible, Dark spells on each other had become such a common occurrence that Ginny hadn’t even thought about the incident twice.

“You weren’t awake for most of it,” Draco’s words were cut by a yawn. “In the hospital wing, you woke up while we were waiting for Madam Pomfrey and told me you picked me because you knew I was strong enough to do… to do it. That you didn’t hate me and you understood.”

Ginny frowned, not remembering having ever spoke to Draco.

“Understood what?” she asked.

But he had fallen asleep, his body completely slack except for his breathing. Ginny stared at her husband, breath caught in her throat. As she mulled over everything he had told her, she felt sleep gradually claim her. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! As always, my lovely beta Maya-nii edited this chapter for me, helping me make everything ten times better as she often does. And the amazing idreamofdraco made graphics for my story, which is such an honor I’m still in shock. Really, the graphics are beautiful. I hope you liked the ball and the introduction of new characters. Let me know what you think!


	7. Day Five

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

_She moved through the crowd in the restaurant, with growing frustration, barely able to stop herself from growling out loud. Dear Merlin, Split Potion was packed today. Clearly the restaurant had grown in popularity since the last time Ginny had been here. Trying to dodge the customers was harder than some of the obstacle courses she trained with. Ginny smirked at her thoughts, waving away the hostess’ offer to help. There was a table for her already, and, hopefully, some preordered wine. Today had been a huge pain in the arse—_

_What the hell? Why was Draco bloody Malfoy sitting with Luna? Ginny stilled as if a wall had popped up in front of her. She glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the odd sight before her as well. No one seemed to mind. In fact, she was in the way of the hostess, who was trying to seat another group. Ginny moved to the side, assessing the situation as quickly as she could before she was spotted. Draco and Luna seemed to be in good spirits. How odd. Ginny grimaced when Luna eventually met her gaze, eyes twinkling. Somehow, Ginny knew her day was about to get worse._

_Luna waved happily at Ginny, calling her over, and Malfoy looked up. His lips twisted into a deep scowl as Luna’s smile widened._

_“Ginny, come, I’ve got a seat here for you!” she called._

_Ginny willed her feet to move, but they simply wouldn’t. She hadn’t seen Malfoy in years, except short mentions in the Daily Prophet. He was still thin, like she remembered from Hogwarts, worry lines marring his sharp features, but he looked… older._

_Why was Draco Malfoy interrupting her lunch with Luna? Had he forced Luna to let him join her? Anger bubbled in Ginny’s stomach, though irrational, and she narrowed her eyes. Did she have to kick him out? Since rumors of her relationship’s demise began, the Daily Prophet had been relentless in shadowing her. But having Draco Malfoy physically removed from her table would be worth the imminent attention._

_“Quidditch star Ginny Weasley Throws Malfoy Heir Out of Split Potion and Onto His Snobby Behind in Broad Daylight!”_

_She could see the headline now, splashed across the papers. Luna continued to wave her over, and Malfoy leaned back in his seat with an audible sigh._

_“Are you sure she’s not dumb, Lovegood?” she heard Malfoy ask loudly. “Hasn’t moved a muscle since she spotted you.”_

_He turned his gaze onto Ginny and sneered. Malfoy continued speaking but Ginny stopped listening. His stare lacked a well-worn malice. As he regarded her from head to toe, she realised what else was different about him. His eyes looked_ lifeless. _She shivered and focused on what he was telling Luna._

_“Slow, even for a Weasley—”_

_“Draco, be nice,” Luna warned, interrupting him. “Ginny, come sit.”_

_Ginny moved cautiously, wondering at her friend’s intentions._

_Her vision suddenly blurred, and the scene before her vanished, along with the aroma of food and the bustle of the crowd. She found herself enveloped within the silence of an empty corridor.  
Ginny rummaged through her bag to ensure that she had collected everything she needed before leaving the locker room. Last week, she had left her wand behind — her bloody wand — and had been forced to run across the grounds to retrieve it from the bench next to her locker. She hadn’t been at all pleased over her blunder that day and vowed to be more cautious._

_Fortunately, she had her wand and gloves with her this time. Humming softly, Ginny turned away from the locker area and began walking down the corridor, halting in her step when she felt eyes on her. If the reporters had somehow found a way in, there would be hell to pay. Turning sharply on her heel, Ginny boldly faced the stranger in the shadows… only to discover that they weren’t a stranger at all._

_“Draco Malfoy,” she called out, surprised._

_He was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets and face devoid of emotion, as he stared at her. What was he doing here? Crossing her arms under her breasts, Ginny glanced up and down the corridor. Perhaps he was waiting for someone else? No, that wasn’t likely. It was just the two of them. Her eyebrows quirked and she forced herself to smile._

_The mere sight of him, in her territory, where she had just played against a rival team, made her skin tingle, and she wished she could shake off the feeling. Instead, she made herself relax._

_“I didn’t realise you were a fan of the Holyhead Harpies,” Ginny said, slowly approaching him. “Were you at the game today?”_

_Pushing off the wall, he smirked and it transformed his expressionless face. The smirk wasn’t the wicked twist of lips that Ginny was used to. It actually looked… pleasant, as if he was greeting a friend. His eyes sparkled with life; a light grey that reminded Ginny of the fast-moving clouds during the game. She shook her head to clear her distracting thoughts as he stepped closer towards her._

_“Hard to be a fan of a Quidditch team when the star Chaser’s mind’s obviously not in the game,” he drawled._

_Ginny huffed. Well, that was true. Her mind had been unusually preoccupied, but the Harpies had still won and she had hoped only her coaches and teammates had noticed. Apparently not. Wait, had he just admitted that she was the star Chaser? When their eyes met, his smirk grew._

_She stared at him for a long moment, lips pursed. Malfoy looked better than the last time she had seen him — he was much more composed. Her lips relaxed into a grin as she remembered how riled up she had gotten him during their last meeting._

_“You’re lucky you even won today,” he continued, tugging her back to reality._

_She shrugged before turning and continuing down her original path. Ginny was aware that he was following behind her, though his steps were light._

_“Are you here to see me, Malfoy?” Ginny asked over her shoulder._

_He caught up with her before she could finish speaking, his strides longer than hers. Their shoulders brushed, and she had to bite back a smile at the unhappy look on his face._

_“That would seem to be the case, wouldn’t it?” he responded._

_They walked in silence before gradually approaching a large door. The broom closet. Instinctively, Ginny reached out and turned the handle — it was unlocked. She sighed, rolling her eyes. After each home game, the girls would store their brooms in the closet and immediately rush to the locker room. The coaches were to ensure that the closet was secured before leaving; clearly, they had forgotten. Wrenching the door open, Ginny glanced back at Malfoy._

_“I’ll be just a minute,” she told him._

_The paleness of his skin practically shone in the darkening corridor, and Ginny was startled to find herself staring at him. Clearing her throat, she stepped into the closet and turned on the light. Everything was in place; all the brooms were properly hung, and— and the door clicked shut behind her. Ginny stilled, unwilling to turn around as he approached. When did he follow her inside?_

_“Come now,” he said, voice low. “Not even a thank you for coming to see you at the game? I expected more from you, Weasley.”_

_Ginny shivered and she turned. Before she could respond, however, Draco wrapped a hand in her hair and guided her lips to his. Warmth flooded her and she encircled her arms around his neck, tugging him closer. He stumbled and they fell against the broom-polishing station. She tried to adjust her uncomfortable position, for the edge was digging into her back, but he simply lifted her onto the table so that he could settle in between her legs._

_“Thank you,” she finally breathed once he pulled away._

_Her bottom lip felt tender when she bit down. His eyes seemingly traced the movement before darting up and meeting hers._

_“But you could’ve sent me an owl instead,” she told him, swallowing a groan as his hand sought for warmth under her shirt._

_He ignored her, and turned her head with his other hand, exposing her neck. She sighed as he pressed a kiss to her sensitive skin. His cool fingers pressed into the bare skin underneath her clothing, and she shifted against him, wishing he would move faster. Ginny had been waiting for him all day despite her constant denial._

_A ragged sigh escaped her when his teeth nipped her neck softly._

_“Really,” he started, huskily, as he straightened himself to loom over her again. “The broom closet? Are you pining for your Hogwarts days?”_

_She couldn’t help the slight pout when she realised that he wasn’t going to continue kissing her. His hooded gaze held hers._

_“You were the one waiting outside the locker room,” Ginny pointed out, surprised by how throaty she sounded. “Couldn’t wait to get to me, could you?”_

_Her pout disappeared when he pushed her legs further apart to pull her closer. His warm breath shifted the hairs around her face, tickling her heated skin. Another shiver raced up and down her back when his hand found her breast, cupping it softly. The shiver did not go unnoticed, and she watched as his smirk became predatory._

_She wished she was alarmed over being Malfoy’s prey, but there were other pressing matters to attend to. Particularly the fact that he wouldn’t allow her hands anywhere near his belt._

_“Just a concerned fan,” Draco answered casually. “You seemed rather distracted during the game. I wanted to see if I could help.”_

_Ginny laughed out loud and his smirk softened into a smile. It wasn’t her fault that she had been thinking all day of a certain gray eyed man with a wicked tongue. With her mind wandering far throughout the game, she counted herself lucky she hadn’t known he was in the audience. She probably wouldn’t have caught a single Quaffle._

_Draco easily grabbed her attention by pressing his lips to hers again._

_The mere feel of his lips fulfilled a longing she experienced ever since she left his bed several mornings ago. She sighed, her body molding and fitting against his—_

She gasped, yanked from sleep by the heat that assaulted her, and her eyes popped open. The ceiling materialised above her and Ginny placed a hand over her heart, trying to calm down. It was a dream, just a dream. She was awake now. Taking several deep breaths, Ginny glanced to her left. Draco remained asleep, features smooth and undaunted by her sudden awakening.

But that was more than just a dream, she realised. Those were memories. Ginny wiped at her forehead, surprised by the perspiration, and looked away from her husband. Quietly, she sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. The coolness of the floor soothed her and she hung her head, trying to regain control of the emotions buzzing through her body. Or, a certain strong emotion. Lust threatened to overwhelm her senses.

If Ginny closed her eyes and thought hard, she could _remember_. Truly be taken back in time, almost. The feel of his hand on her breast, his lips on her neck, the way his expression changed when he made her laugh… she could recall being in the broom closet for far too long, their kisses turning much more personal, telling stories of their lives and their insecurities and… Her heart rate increased again. Calling forth details was impossible — all a faded memory from many years ago — but everything else seemed so clear, as if it had just happened.

She wasn’t sure she had been ready for that specific memory. But, now, how could she forget it? A warm hunger had unraveled deep inside of her. A yearning for the man that laid asleep next to her. Ginny got off the bed quickly, pressing a hand to her hot face. She didn’t want to look at Draco in fear of… something — she wasn’t sure. So, she grabbed the robe that hung on the closet door and wrapped it around her frame.

The silk fabric cooled her skin further, and she didn’t spare a second glance at her sleeping husband as she left the bedroom. As she had done the previous morning, Ginny paused before each bedroom door to listen to her children’s soft breathing. No one else had awakened in the house, and the quietness helped to relieve her restless self. Now would also be the perfect time to figure out her plans for the day. And she would ignore the… memory of the broom closet until much later. She slowly headed to the kitchen.

Following last night’s events, Ginny wasn’t sure where to begin her plans. She mechanically started to brew a pot of coffee as her mind drifted. Blaise had asked after Luna. There was something going on between them. Ginny knew she had to reach out to her friend and find out exactly what it was. Closing her eyes, she recalled her dreams. Luna had been in the first one, cosily sitting at a table with Draco. How odd. When Ginny struggled to remember details, the dream-memory abruptly ended, fading into her leaving the locker room after a Quidditch match. But Ginny somehow was aware that the events weren’t sequential. 

The emotions she felt upon seeing Draco both times were also different. And the ways he looked at her, on both occasions, were different as well.

Shaking her head as she sensed a pleasant tingle in her navel, Ginny grabbed a mug and poured herself some coffee. She mixed tiny dollops of cream and sugar into the hot liquid. Once the first sip entered her mouth, she relaxed.

Leaning against the counter, Ginny let out a long breath.

She had to write to Luna. Luna evidently knew something that would help her connect the dots Ginny wasn’t aware existed. That was the Luna she remembered. Her friend had been mysteriously admitted into St. Mungo’s, but Luna hadn’t wanted Blaise to know. However, Blaise appeared to know something about Luna. Perhaps Ginny should reach out to him instead. Would she be breaking Luna’s trust by doing so?

A gut feeling warned her to tread carefully when it came to Luna. Not only was there an unknown relationship between Blaise and Luna, but there was also one between Draco and Luna. Draco hadn’t been happy when Lyra had brought up Luna days before. Ginny swore that he had been furious, though he hid his emotions faster than Ginny could blink. If he discovered that Ginny was thinking of contacting Luna, he probably wouldn’t be pleased.

Taking another sip, Ginny stilled when she heard movement above her. She listened carefully in order to determine who it was, but the sudden thought of having to face Draco flustered her. Would he somehow know what she had dreamt about? No, that was impossible, but the mere idea made her face flush red. His eager hands roaming her body, his predatory smirk… Ginny lifted her left hand and stared at the wedding ring around her finger. Draco had failed to ask for the ring last night, and she found herself unwilling to return it.

The kitchen door opened and Ginny focused on the little boy who hurried in to greet her.

“I could smell the coffee,” Orion told her, answering a question she hadn’t thought to ask. “I knew you’d be down here.”

His red hair rivalled Harry’s on a good day, sticking up in every possible way. Ginny walked over to her son and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He was unbothered by the show of affection, stare trained on the mug in her hand.

“Can I have a sip?” he asked, hands already reaching out.

Ginny swatted them away.

“No, you’re too young,” she chided, the words naturally falling from her lips.

He huffed, sliding into a seat at the tiny table.

“But I turned eight three months ago!” he whined. “When will I get to have some?”

Ginny sat down beside him, her gaze soft. He was eight. She had never asked Draco how old the children were. Merlin, she hadn’t asked Draco nearly enough. She had been blindly wandering through her new life, unmotivated to ask questions and ease her journey in the process. Her eldest child was eight years old. And her husband helped to reform Azkaban and other prisons around the world.

The unexpected desire to know more, to understand everything, hit her. She would have to consult Draco later. 

“May I have waffles for breakfast?” Orion mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Ginny smiled.

“You _have_ been asking for ages now,” Ginny responded, standing up. “I suppose I can try to make some waffles for you.”

Orion visibly brightened, straightening in his seat. 

“Can I help?” he asked.

The young boy didn’t wait for a response. He leapt out of his seat and ran to the cabinets, grabbing flour and baking soda and various ingredients. It was clearly something they did together often. Ginny grabbed a large bowl from the higher cabinets as Orion set several eggs on the counter. 

Orion bit his lip in concentration as he looked over the items he had arranged on the counter. Then, he ran back to the cabinets and grabbed vanilla extract, placing it proudly next to everything else. Orion’s height gave him the ability to easily work with Ginny and she followed his lead as he began mixing all the ingredients together.

It didn’t take long for the pair to whip up several waffles. Orion started eating his own modest stack, drenched in syrup, as Ginny continued cooking for the rest of their family. Flour peppered the counter and floor, along with a few egg shells, but a simple wave of her wand cleaned the mess. She hummed a song happily, the buzz from the coffee and aroma of warm waffles filling her senses. Ginny nearly missed the addition in the kitchen until she heard Orion attempting to talk with a full mouth.

“Good morning to you too, Orion. Do finish your food first before you speak, will you? Only Weasleys understand foreign words from a filled mouth.”

Ginny almost dropped her wand, turning to face Draco, wide-eyed. He stood over Orion, rubbing his forehead with a grimace. She studied him hungrily, taking in his dishevelled hair and the darkness under his eyes. He was hungover, that much was clear, but it didn’t stop the chill down her spine.

He turned, eyebrows warily rising as he walked away from their son to greet her. It was out of habit, surely, that he reached over and brushed his lips against her cheek. Draco was fatigued, she knew, yet it didn’t stop her breath from catching in her throat.

Damn her dream.

Draco didn’t seem to notice, stealing the mug from her hands and bringing it to his lips. She watched as he took a sip. A slight scrunch of his nose told her that the taste wasn’t to his liking. Regardless, he indulged in another long sip and Ginny found herself staring this time. He undoubtedly looked like death warmed over but she still couldn’t help admiring the line of his sharp nose, the light blond of his eyebrows, the chiselled cut of his jawline.

“That’s my coffee, you know,” she pointed out, hoping to distract herself.

She absently glanced at the cupboards, but not before she caught sight of his lips curling into a small smile. Grabbing another mug from the shelf, she poured a fresh serving.

“I let you have my scotch last night,” Draco replied softly, so that Orion wouldn’t hear.

“You didn’t let me have it,” Ginny told him, grinning as she turned to him. “You forced it on me. Couldn’t finish it yourself, remember?”

Draco fully faced her and they traded mugs. The sips of coffee had done wonders for him. He already looked more awake than moments ago.

“Thought you needed a bit more fun,” he informed her lightly.

“I was having fun,” Ginny responded, drinking from her own mug.

His eyebrows rose high at her admission before he nodded. Ginny saw his eyes dart around her face, apparently taking in information she was unknowingly revealing. After a second, he grinned and her stomach did flip-flops at the sight. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Draco muttered.

Ginny bit back a smile and shrugged.

“Yes, well, other than our fight, Percy being an arse, and you failing to properly introduce me to, oh, anyone… it was rather entertaining.”

Surprisingly, her frank admission caused him to laugh. Ginny watched in amusement as Draco smirked into his mug.

“Yes, except for all of that,” he agreed.

They shared a long look before Orion’s interruption stole their attention. He glanced between his parents curiously before asking.

“Should I go wake Gray and Lyra?” 

Draco nodded before Ginny could. She had been surprised that Orion was the first child to awaken, considering how challenging rousing him had been yesterday. Orion raced off, energetic, and Draco turned back to Ginny. She tilted her head as they observed each other in silence.

Draco was a physical opposite of her. While Ginny’s skin was splattered with freckles, dirt caked under her fingernails from outside adventures, her hair a fiery red, Draco was… clean-cut and immaculate with his pale, unblemished skin and cool, blond hair. Even his bloody eyelashes were light enough to appear white. She would fear losing him in a snowstorm because he would blend in his surroundings. He was unlike anyone she had ever been attracted to, both physically and emotionally.

Ginny wondered what he thought as he stared at her. There was an unknown emotion swirling in the depths of his eyes.

She licked her lips and glanced out the window.

“I figured Orion would be the last one up,” she said, breaking the silence.

Draco grunted in agreement.

“Usually, yes,” he replied. “However, he likes getting time alone with you. I think that’s the only thing that will get him out of bed quickly.”

Ginny looked at Draco, surprised. 

“Really?” she asked. 

Draco nodded in affirmation before stepping away from her. She hadn’t realised how close he had been until he moved. Her cheeks burned when she nearly followed him. Instead, she kept her feet firmly planted on the floor, running a hand through her tangled hair.

“Do we have plans today?” 

He stilled, shaking his head.

“I have to head back to work,” he told her apologetically. “You’ll be fine with the children alone today, won’t you?”

She shrugged, unwilling to acknowledge the uneasiness that assaulted her. While she didn’t doubt her ability to handle the children, her memories were returning suddenly and randomly, leaving her vulnerable to her surroundings. If a memory came to her during her time with the children, she would hate to be the cause of their harm or fear.

“Or,” Draco continued, examining her reaction. “There’s still some Christmas shopping to be done; it’s only a few days away. I’m sure your brother will accompany you if you want to get out of the house.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded. Gift-shopping with her brother, and children, was preferable to a fully unsupervised day. Draco took another drink from his mug, his stare softening at her agreement.

“There’s a to-do list in your office,” he informed her. “Have you found your way in there yet? It’s your favorite spot in the house. I can show it to you if you’d like—”

As soon as he made the offer, Draco froze in place. His features hardened and it was clear he was thinking about his next choice of words. And fast. She _had_ been in her nook of an office, having found it on her first day in the house, but he hadn’t known. Before she could suggest anything, he spoke again. 

“I’ll find the list for you,” Draco offered despite the intense look he wore. “I remember where I last saw it.”

Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed, puzzled by the switch of their light-hearted banter to his forced nonchalance.

“Oh,” she paused. “Okay. Are you sure? If you have to be ready for work—”

“I’m in no rush, really,” he reassured her, clearing his throat. “Please, feed the children breakfast and I’ll go search for the list. Then you could go to Diagon Alley for the day, perhaps? With your brother around, you won’t be overwhelmed by the children.”

“Which brother?” Ginny asked, pushing away bothersome thoughts.

Draco smirked at her, his features finally relaxed. Relief painted his face and Ginny stared. She could read the emotion on his face so well that she couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time that she knew what he was feeling despite not knowing why yet.

“My favorite brother of yours,” he mockingly told her. “Ron.”

She rolled her eyes at his salty tone, but opted not to remark in defence of her brother. It was evident that Ron and Draco were on better terms now. Setting her mug down, Ginny watched her husband take a final drink. He refilled his mug with a second serving and began heading out of the kitchen.

“I’ll make sure the children are awake before I get ready,” Draco told her over his shoulder. “I’m sure Orion is being a kind and loving brother as he shakes them awake.”

Ginny bit her lip before running towards him. She grabbed onto his arm, tugging him to a stop, and he looked down at her, surprised. 

“Sorry, I just… I just wanted to ask you a question.”

Draco’s face clouded over for a moment before he nodded hesitantly.

“What is it?”

“How do you like your coffee?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“What?”

“You heard me, Malfoy,” she teased.

It was clear he was trying to read her again but Ginny tried to keep her face straight. Though she was sure she was hardly any good at it. Draco tilted his head as he surveyed her before glancing down at the mug in his hand.

“Normally, with a touch of cream,” Draco answered. “But this cup suffices for now. Hangovers tend to deserve a cup of straight coffee with no sweeteners. I’ve already taken a headache potion, though, so I should be fine soon.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Ginny laughed as she spoke, waving her hands as if they would erase his confusion. “I just— what’s your favorite season?”

He placed his mug on the counter and approached her. Leaning forward, Draco’s eyes peered into hers for a long, silent moment. Then he straightened, eyes narrowed. 

“What are you talking about, Gin? Have you gone mad? Feeling ill?” 

She let out a nervous giggle.

“I want to know,” she insisted. “I don’t know _anything_ about you, except that you were a bully back at Hogwarts. I want to get to know you now. I mean, we’re married and there’s a _reason_ we’re together so I… just wanted to get to know you, you know?”

Ginny took a deep breath when he remained silent.

“Bugger, I do sound a bit looney,” she admitted softly.

He visibly swallowed.

“So you ask about my favorite season?” Draco managed to croak out.

Ginny rolled her eyes, oblivious to his discomfort.

“Fine, that was an odd question. What’s your favorite Quidditch team, then?” she asked shortly. “You’re taking all the fun out of this.”

A smirk suddenly appeared on his lips, catching Ginny off-guard. She still awaited his response, because Ginny knew that Draco Malfoy — like any decent wizard — had a favorite Quidditch team. Finally, he brought his face close to hers again, though he hardly looked confused. Actually, he looked far too smug for Ginny’s liking. 

“I’m surprised you even have to ask,” Draco drawled.

Ginny frowned, trying to remember if he ever had a favorite team at Hogwarts.

“Puddlemere United?” Ginny tentatively offered.

Draco shook his head and raised a hand. His thumb brushed the soft skin under Ginny’s right eye, and she wondered if there was a speck of flour on her face… or if he simply wanted to touch her. She let out a sigh when his finger moved away.

“It’s the Holyhead Harpies,” he murmured. “Silly question.”

“Of course,” she whispered weakly as he stepped back.

He grabbed his mug and left the kitchen without another word, leaving Ginny feeling overly warm in his wake. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Ron had been more than delighted when Ginny invited him to shop in Diagon Alley with her and the children for the day. Though she was less than pleased that she had to stick her head into his fireplace to communicate with him. Draco’s eagle owl had been sent off with his letters before he headed into work. Unfortunately, the lack of an owl also meant that the letter she wanted to write Luna couldn’t be done at the house.

Lyra and Gray had been cranky throughout breakfast. However, once they found out that Uncle Ron was coming over to take them to Diagon Alley, their spirits lifted. Ginny enjoyed helping dress Lyra, even though the little girl insisted on wearing a tutu over her pants, and making sure all the children brushed their teeth. As she herself was getting ready for the trip, Draco re-entered their bedroom, pressing a kiss to her cheek and placing the Christmas presents list on the vanity table. He left hastily, clearly in more of a rush than he claimed. 

Over an hour later, Ron Flooed into their library. Ginny had been instructing Gray to return Lyra her proper right glove when her brother stumbled in, brushing soot off of his cloak. She instantly brightened at the sight of him, rising to her feet.

“Gin!” he cried, hugging her close. “You look well.”

“You haven’t even looked at me properly,” Ginny mumbled into his shirt.

Ron held her at arm’s length, and made a show of surveying her up and down. Then, he shrugged.

“Can I say that now?” Ron asked with a large smile on his face. 

Ginny laughed, nodding.

“Thank you for coming with us today,” she said softly as the children ran around the library, adrenaline spurring them now that their uncle had arrived.

Ron hugged her again, resting his chin on top of her head. 

“Of course, Gin,” he responded. “I haven’t seen you since the accident. I wanted to make sure that you hadn’t burnt the house down.”

Her heart squeezed and she hugged him tighter before stepping back. The last time she had seen him was at the Burrow when he had to leave to care for her children with Hermione. He had seemed confident that she would be fine, that all would be well, and she knew that he had been keeping tabs on her throughout the past few days. Between Harry and Hermione, Ron didn’t need to come by and see Ginny to know what she was up to. But he had.

Tears unexpectedly threatened to spill and Ron stilled, his face twisting at the sight.

“Er, Gin,” Ron began quietly before pausing. Then he sighed, “Let’s head out, eh? Diagon Alley will be a madhouse this close to Christmas.”

Ginny nodded, wiping at her runny nose with the sleeve of her shirt. Orion noticed running up, his nose scrunching in disgust, before he grabbed Ron’s hand. The emotions were surprising but not unwelcome. She had missed Ron, her closest ally as a child in the Weasley household. He had been the one who comforted her best after the accident and… she was so happy to see him.

Ron lifted Lyra into his arms and kept a hold on Orion. Orion threw the Floo powder into the flames, turning them an emerald green, before the trio stepped in. They disappeared with a whoosh. Ginny and Gray shared a look before he raised his arms to be lifted as well. She smiled, picking her youngest son up before letting him throw the Floo powder in the flames just as his brother did.

When Ginny stepped out of the fireplace, Ron was waiting with a hand extended to steady her. She threw him a grateful smile, taking a look around the pub. They had Flooed into the Leaky Cauldron. The typically dark and shabby pub was aglow with cheerful witches and wizards of all ages. Christmas decorations were splayed all over the walls. Groups of patrons sat at tables, eating and drinking, while others made their way in from Muggle London towards the brick wall entrance. 

Orion was bouncing on the balls of his feet, reaching for Ginny’s free hand as soon as she stepped away from the fireplace. Ron was right; Diagon Alley was going to be filled to the brim with people doing their own last minute shopping. She had never seen the Leaky Cauldron so packed, not even before the first day of school when families shopped for their children. Shifting Gray on her hip — Merlin, he was heavy — she started towards the courtyard where the entrance awaited them. 

The Weasley siblings dodged the crowd easily, small children and all, and found little need for their own wands to enter Diagon Alley. The steady flow of magical folk entering and exiting Diagon Alley meant that the brick wall was open almost constantly. Ginny heard Lyra gasp in excitement as they walked onto the busy cobblestone alley. While Ginny had thought the Leaky Cauldron had been well-decorated for the holidays, she had forgotten about Diagon Alley. Christmas lights stretched from store to store, as close to the shoppers’ heads as possible, but never touching, blinking brightly. Wreaths hung on shop windows, some covered with fresh snow, while candles lit up the alleyway, warm and welcoming. 

The scene was so lovely that it took Ginny’s breath away.

She tended to avoid busy places during the holidays, for fear of wanting to strangle anyone who bumped into her. But when Gray looked at her, his eyes glowing with wonder, her opinion shifted.

“All right, then, how about we go see Uncle George?” Ron said loudly, over the chatter of shoppers around him. “We’ll figure out where to go from there, yeah?”

Ginny shuffled alongside her brother, keeping Orion in between them so that the little boy wouldn’t get lost in the bustle.

“Isn’t George going to be angry that you’re not working?” she asked, glancing over at her brother.

Ron grinned but shrugged.

“Well, sort of,” he told her, quietly so the children wouldn’t hear. “I run the shop in Hogsmeade. George ended up buying out Zonko’s a few years ago, like he and Fred wanted to. Once he figured I was responsible enough to manage my own shop, he sent me over there. Today’s my off day anyway; I’m _supposed_ to be with Hermione and the kids at her parents’ house. But they left early, and I wanted to see you for a bit, so it worked out perfectly.”

Ginny smiled. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes came into view, distracting both siblings and children alike. The store appeared more obnoxious than Ginny remembered. There were spinning wheels outside of the door and fireworks going off over the building every few minutes. A child presumably wearing a _Headless Hat_ , which made the wearer’s head and hat disappear, was jumping around with his friends, hollering at full volume. Children ran in and out, laughing loudly, as their parents struggled to keep a hold of them. It looked like mass chaos. 

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was the best place to bring three young kids, but Orion continued tugging at her hand and Ron didn’t stop walking, so she had no choice except to follow. Gray began to struggle out of her arms and she placed him on the ground. As soon as she did, Orion released her hand and the two boys darted into the shop. Ron glanced over at her, grinning.

“Don’t worry,” he said, noting the look on her face. “They basically grew up here with Rose and Hugo.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” she responded dryly. “I’m surprised I allowed them in here so often.”

Ron laughed, switching Lyra from one hip to the other, so she was closer to Ginny. Her daughter reached over, grabbing a strand of Ginny’s hair and pulling it gently.

“Mummy,” Lyra called, eyes wide. “May I get a toy from Uncle George?” 

Ginny pursed her lips and sighed.

“We’ll see. Christmas is right around the corner,” she reminded the young girl.

“Yeah, but these are the _best_ toys!” Lyra cried out. “And you never let us bring any home, ever, it’s not fair! Can I get down? Where are Gray and Orion? Why did they get to go inside before me? That’s not fair, mummy, is it?”

By the time they arrived at the entrance, Lyra’s desperate squirming out of Ron’s arms had reached its peak. Ron put her down quickly when the little girl’s face became shockingly red, and she ran into the crowd without hesitation. Ginny’s breath hitched as soon as she lost sight of her daughter. Orion and Gray were older and bigger than their sister, though they were both still very young, but Lyra was tiny and delicate.

Shuffling through the crowd, Ginny soon lost track of Ron’s whereabouts. She had been distracted by _Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-bangs_ , the fireworks the twins had used against Umbridge during her fourth year. The fireworks were packaged and kept high on the shelf, thank Merlin, but she couldn’t help smiling as she remembered the wench’s face as she tried to maintain order at the school.

Now she had lost her three children _and_ her brother in the joke store. Before she could step away from the shelf in search of them, someone else slid up next to her.

“Ginny!” the familiar voice shouted. “My favorite sister!”

Ginny let out a cry of happiness before diving into George’s arms. He caught her easily, lifting her off her feet before setting her down quickly. There was a sheen of sweat on his face and he had a slightly frantic look in his eyes, but none of that surprised her. The store was insanely busy.

“You haven’t been by often enough,” George admonished. “Are you and Malfoy keeping the children away from me?”

She grinned. Growing up, Ginny had a special relationship with each of her brothers. Although Ron was certainly the brother she was closest to, there was no denying that George, Fred, and Ginny had a special bond. It had always been easy for the three of them to read each other, to speak without using too many words. They had often called her their protégé growing up.

So it was obvious to Ginny that George was checking up on her, that his words held a discreet concern for her well-being. 

“It’s been an odd few days,” Ginny told him, and he laughed.

“Yes, I bet it has been,” George responded, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

Together, they walked through the store, dodging random excitable children and weary parents.

“Where’s that husband of yours?” her brother asked into her ear.

“At work,” she replied.

His dark eyes caught hers, and his eyebrows twitched. 

“We’re fine,” Ginny reassured him.

A smile bloomed on his lips.

“Good, good,” George said loudly, startling a woman to his left. “I like Draco.”

“Apparently, everyone does,” Ginny muttered.

George laughed again.

“Don’t you?” he asked.

Ginny caught her bottom lip with her teeth at George’s question. The answer was simple and easy and quick. _Yes._ She didn’t want to give George any satisfaction from her answer though. Unfortunately, there was a humorous gleam in his eyes, as if he already knew. Before George could tease her, however, someone grabbed onto her hand. 

“Mum! Mum, look what Uncle George says I can have!”

It was a _Nose Biting Tea-cup._

“Do you think Lyra and Gray will fall for it?” Orion asked excitedly, his grip on the box tightening.

The blue of his eyes, burning with mischief, reminded Ginny too much of Fred and George. She reached out and grabbed the box from his hands, shaking her head.

“No,” she said promptly. “That is certainly not happening.”

Orion’s face fell.

“Oh, come on, please!” Orion begged. “I still need to get them a gift. And this would be _perfect_.”

“No way,” Ginny reinforced. “We’ll go get something for them together but—”

“Right now? Just me and you?” Orion cut in, the excitement returning.

Ginny froze, and she saw George perk up out of the corner of her eye. Draco had mentioned that Orion liked having his private time with Ginny, and that he even woke up early sometimes for it.

“Your brother and sister are here,” Ginny started, immediately feeling awful as Orion frowned.

George jumped into her view, smiling broadly.

“Get out of here,” he said to Ginny, waving his hands at her. “Ronald is up there now with Lyra and Gray. I’ll let him know you both left. Between the three of them, they’ll entertain themselves in here for a few hours.”

Uncertainty kept her from agreeing, and George raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll put them to work,” George promised with a wink. “Go on; get out of here before you’re spotted.”

Looking down at Orion, who was staring up at her hopefully, Ginny sighed. Then she nodded. Orion let out a loud whoop before grabbing her hand. Immediately, he began leading her towards the front of the store. Shooting one last look over her shoulder, Ginny made eye contact with George, who shrugged happily before disappearing from view.

They were out on the bustling street before Ginny could catch her breath. Orion peered at her once they exited the shop.

“Where to?” she asked and he grinned.

“The Quidditch supply store!” he answered cheerfully.

She arched an eyebrow. Lyra and Gray had shown absolutely no interest in Quidditch the last few days. Her eldest child, however…

“And just who are you getting broom supplies for?”

Orion had the decency to look sheepish before giggling.

“Maybe Flourish and Blotts?” Ginny suggested. “For Gray?”

“And somewhere with plants for Lyra,” Orion added eagerly. “Or maybe something to keep Marion Marie Margaret from running outside so that she will actually play with Lyra.”

They walked down the street, side by side; Orion released her hand to hold onto the sleeve of her cloak instead. He seemed content to chat about random things during the entire walk, taking the time to point out the new broom models displayed in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Ginny kept him moving, gently pushing his back when he appeared incapable of walking past the window, his eyes larger than she had ever seen. He began reciting statistics for the different models and various Quidditch players’ broom preferences.

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at her son’s avid interest. He sounded much like all her brothers throughout their school years. She had a feeling Draco had been the same way. Tiptoeing to scan over the heads of the crowd in front of them, Ginny was trying to locate Flourish and Blotts when her shoulder was hit, hard. Stumbling to a stop, Ginny grimaced and threw a dirty look at the person behind her. Alas, they had disappeared, without a single word.

“Well, that was just rotten.”

Cho Chang suddenly appeared, hands full of bags. Ginny straightened, inexplicably stunned by Cho’s arrival. Her mouth moved yet not a sound was heard. She was at a loss for words. What a coincidence. She had seen Chang at the Ministry ball the night before, on friendly terms with Draco. They were co-workers, Draco had informed her. From the pleasant look in Cho’s gaze, she had a feeling the proper response was to smile at the other woman.

So she did despite really not wanting to.

“Everyone is so full of holiday spirit,” Ginny finally managed, rubbing her shoulder.

Orion huddled closer to Ginny as the crowd flowed around them.

“No one has manners anymore,” Cho agreed before tilting her head. “It was great seeing you last night. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to stop and talk.”

Ginny shrugged, hoping her discomfort didn’t peek through. Cho’s stare was inquisitive and probing and it made Ginny feel off-balance. During her past run-ins with acquaintances that were unaware of her  
accident, Draco or a family member had been around to assist her. Cho would be the first person Ginny would have to deal with on her own. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Ginny replied, clearing her throat. “I should be going. We’re shopping for the family—”

Before Ginny could reach for Orion, Cho took a step closer. Her dark eyes were soft and kind, the smile on her lips unguarded, and Ginny stilled, slightly intimidated. Bloody hell, she was a gorgeous witch. No wonder Harry had been ensnared by her charm in school.

“I’m glad that you and Draco have worked things out,” Cho said quietly. “I know things had been rough for a while. You both seemed happy last night. It was a relief to see, honestly.”

Ginny frowned, a bitter taste in her mouth. She narrowed her eyes at the woman across from her.

“What makes you say that?” she asked slowly.

Cho shrugged, unaware of the dangerous grounds she treaded on. Ginny wasn’t sure where her hostility had come from but she fought to keep it at bay. Chang hadn’t said anything horrible, hadn’t done anything else except say hello, yet Ginny was ready to pull out her wand and… and… and what?

“He had been volunteering to work the longer trips away from home,” Cho told her gently, her eyebrows furrowing as she watched Ginny. “I kept telling him to not bother. I don’t have a family, like he does, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Insisted on coming onto the trips. I just… assumed there were issues at home.”

Cho paused, realizing she misread the situation, and Ginny suddenly sensed a presence behind her. She could feel the phantom lips beside her ear, could feel the anger of the ghost, could hear the furious whisper as clear as day.

_“You think I’d want to fuck_ another _woman who had been besotted by_ Potter _? Cho is a friend and nothing more. You’ve built her up into some villain in your own mind, and for that, you’ll have to deal with your own demons.”_

__Ginny exhaled sharply and looked behind her, half-expecting a livid Draco. She could see him in her mind’s eye, his barely controlled rage as he stood behind her, his ragged breath causing goose bumps to break out across her skin. When he had gripped her arms, she hadn’t been sure if it was to keep her in place or to prevent himself from grabbing his wand to hex her._ _

__Cho frowned._ _

__“I’m sorry, Ginny,” she said, voice catching. “I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have brought it up. I crossed a line and—”_ _

__“No, no,” Ginny breathed out quickly, eyes meeting Cho’s worried gaze. “You’re fine, really. Everything is fine.”_ _

__Ginny tried to regain her composure. The hostility she had felt towards Cho disappeared as quickly as it had materialised. Now, she just felt tired._ _

__“I’m really sorry,” Cho began again._ _

__“Stop apologising,” Ginny ordered._ _

__Cho nodded, taking a step back. A stranger stepped up to Cho, appearing suddenly from the throngs of shoppers. She reached out and grabbed onto Cho’s arm._ _

__“Cho, I’ve been looking for you,” the woman chided softly._ _

__She turned a bright gaze to Ginny, smiling._ _

__“Mrs. Malfoy,” the woman greeted. “Always a pleasure.”_ _

__Cho visibly relaxed with the woman by her side._ _

__“Ginny, this is Astoria Greengrass. I’m not sure if you’ve both met before,” Cho said._ _

__“At a few of Narcissa Malfoy’s tea parties,” Astoria drawled, taking one of the many bags from Cho’s grasp. “But that was many years ago.”_ _

__Cho smiled gratefully at Greengrass._ _

__Astoria Greengrass looked incredibly waif-like beside Cho. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled away from her face, showcasing her bright, green eyes. She was very pretty. Ginny tried to smile back but found it hard. She didn’t remember Astoria at all._ _

__“We should be going, Cho,” Astoria said. “More shopping to do, after all. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mrs. Malfoy.”_ _

__Astoria grabbed Cho’s free hand in order to drag her away, and Cho shot Ginny an apologetic look._ _

__“Happy holidays, Ginny,” Cho managed to say before disappearing into the masses._ _

__Ginny stood alone, wrapping her arms around herself to fight off the cold that abruptly encased her. The acrid taste hadn’t left her mouth, and she could still hear Draco snarling in her ear, his anger so pronounced that it made her heart squeeze._ _

__There was no denying his outrage when she accused him of cheating — however long ago it had been. She must have assumed that Draco and Cho were having an affair. Her stomach felt like it was laden with sand. Had he had been cheating? Was it the reason he took the long trips that Cho had mentioned? But, if they had, it had been silly of Cho to bring it up casually. Unless Cho intended to hurt Ginny with the information._ _

__Sighing, Ginny ran a hand over her face._ _

__And then she started._ _

__Orion wasn’t no longer by her side. He was gone. Ginny spun in a circle, desperately searching for her son, but he was nowhere to be found. Panic hit her and she tried to catch her breath, all thoughts abandoned. The street was busy, and no one seemed to take notice of the woman calling out for her son. Perhaps he had gone to the bookstore without her. Yes, that would make sense. Rushing through the crowd and shoving strangers aside, Ginny found Flourish and Blotts. She ran in, sprinting up and down the aisles, but there was no sight of the curly-haired boy._ _

__Where would he have disappeared to? There were no Herbology shops in Diagon Alley that she could remember. But what if there were some, now? What if Orion had a specific shop in mind, which Ginny should technically know of, and headed over? Dread gripped her insides as Ginny ran out of the bookstore and onto the cobblestone street._ _

__Wait, they had discussed a trip to a pet store for Lyra’s cat. It was the best shot she had. But there were two different pet stores in the district. Or, hell, what if he had wandered into Knockturn Alley? Knockturn Alley was still a notoriously sinister place, from what Ginny remembered, home to hags who lingered in the shadows, wizards searching for dark artifacts uncommonly found in Diagon Alley, and creatures who would love to get their hands on a lost child._ _

__Her stomach dropped at the thought._ _

__She had lost her son._ _

__Ginny had completely forgotten about his presence and, now, she had _lost_ him. She was horrible. Draco was going to murder her — how was she going to explain herself?_ _

__She should return to Ron and George. Get reinforcements. Any help possible. Ginny licked her dry lips and started in the direction she had come from, pushing past anyone in her way. Maybe he had gone back to the joke shop, maybe he had gone looking for his uncles, for his brother and sister. Maybe, just maybe—_ _

__“Mum! Mum, look! This is the broom I was telling you about. The one that the Quidditch teams are using now!”_ _

__Orion stood in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, his nose pressed against the glass. The relief at the sight of him left her staggering, weak, but she rushed over to him before her legs could give out from under her. Her son was unfazed when she squatted down next to him, leaning against the wall for support. Reaching out, she brushed the hair from his face. There were no visible marks on him, no signs of injury, and no indication that he wasn’t the same as when she last saw him._ _

__“Orion,” Ginny whispered, throat constricted._ _

__Again, tears sprang from her eyes. He shot a glance at her, and then did a double take upon seeing her watery eyes._ _

__“Mum, what—”_ _

__She grabbed him, pulling him tightly to her. There was a high probability that she was smothering him in her cloak, but the weight of his body comforted her and she fought back the urge to sob. Orion groaned loudly after a moment, wriggling his way to freedom._ _

__“What’s wrong?” he asked loudly, looking around to ensure that there were no witnesses._ _

__Ginny sniffled, wiping at her face._ _

__“You can’t just leave without telling me, Orion!” she snapped, though her words were muffled by another loud sniff._ _

__“I did tell you,” Orion shot back, frowning. “I told you I was going to go look at the brooms. You weren’t listening to me! You forgot I was even there!”_ _

__She leaned back on her heels._ _

“I did _not_ forget about you,” she retorted, face flushing. “I would never—" 

The lie almost caused her to choke. Ginny couldn’t say it out loud, and she couldn’t tell him she would never forget. Because he was right. She had forgotten about Orion while she spoke to Cho. Furthermore, she _had_ completely forgotten him, his memory wiped clean from her mind.

__“See,” Orion spat. “You did forget about me.”_ _

__His acidic words stabbed her. Ginny rested her palm on the back of his head, but he didn’t react. Instead, he stubbornly stared at the window display._ _

__“Orion?” she called gently._ _

__He remained silent but his lips twitched into a frown._ _

__“Hey,” Ginny tried again. “Orion?”_ _

__Orion turned to look at her, his normally pale cheeks flushed pink. Ginny gnawed at her bottom lip. Seeing familiar expressions on her children’s faces was still so bizarre to her. Her eldest child had always resembled a Weasley, to her, save for the way he held himself — straight and proud like a Malfoy. Now, she saw a hesitancy that reminded her of Draco whenever he was trying to read her._ _

__“Let’s get some ice cream. Then we’ll talk?” Ginny offered quietly._ _

__His lower lip protruded in thought as he eyed her._ _

__“It’s freezing out, mum,” he informed her._ _

__“It’s never too cold for ice cream,” she shrugged._ _

__Orion frowned before he nodded. She stood, legs aching from her awkward crouch, and reached down for his hand. He took it cautiously and, together, they abandoned their plans momentarily in search of ice cream._ _

__Years ago, Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour had been taken over by a close family friend after Florean had been abducted and killed by Death Eaters. It still stood strong in spite of the loss of its original owner. Ginny couldn’t count the times she had barged in with her brothers, pleading for a free sample that Florean would hand out. As she led Orion into the ice cream shop, she wondered if he would, one day, have the same, sweet memories of getting ice cream with his siblings._ _

__They ordered a cone of butter pecan topped with vanilla and two cherries for Orion, and a single scoop of raspberry ice cream in a cup for Ginny. The parlour wasn’t as busy as it would usually be in the summer, yet there were children lingering by the counter, asking for samples, and adults seated at the few tables. Ginny and Orion found an empty table by the window and sat down._ _

__Orion appeared content with his cone, alternating between licking the ice cream and biting it. After each bite of the ice cream, his face would scrunch up, the chill proving too much for his teeth, leaving him  
to slowly lick at it. Ginny watched, amused, although the tension between them was palpable. _ _

__“I’m sorry I forgot about you,” Ginny told him once they settled down. “It was awful of me and… I’m so sorry.”_ _

__Pausing in his attempt to devour the ice cream, Orion looked over at her. His lips pursed as he stared. Then he shrugged._ _

__“You’ve never forgotten about me before,” he finally muttered. “Or any of us. You’ve never forgotten about us.”_ _

__He paused, as if he wanted to continue. Despite her wrenching heart, she knew he had more to tell her. And while his words could hurt her, she still wanted to know. Ginny nudged his foot with hers and lifted her eyebrows when he looked up at her. A ghost of a grin played across his face though he kept mum. Ginny took a bite of ice cream into her mouth and allowed it to melt on her tongue, trying to clear her thoughts._ _

__She didn’t want to lie to him again. Not now, not ever. Letting out a soft breath, Ginny leaned across the table._ _

__“Will you keep this a secret from Gray and Lyra?” Ginny asked, pointing to the ice cream cone he held._ _

__A spark of mischief brightened his eyes and he nodded._ _

__“I’ll tell you another secret,” she began slowly. “But you mustn’t tell your brother and sister yet.”_ _

__Orion eyed her warily._ _

__“It’s a grown-up secret?” he questioned, curious._ _

__Ginny nodded. He took a moment to consider before nodding again._ _

__“I won’t tell them,” Orion promised and he sounded so sincere that she was rendered speechless._ _

__Licking her lips, Ginny stared at her son. He held her gaze confidently, waiting for whatever secret she was about to bestow upon him. Was she making the right choice? After experiencing the worry and panic moments ago, without him by her side, she felt that it was. She didn’t want to lie to him further and she wanted to clear the air before he found out on his own. The slight tremble of his bottom lip, as he had defiantly stared at the broom display, would be imprinted in her mind for years to come._ _

__“You lot were right, the other day,” Ginny admitted, bracing herself._ _

__Orion’s eyes darted over her face, his confusion apparent._ _

__“After my accident at the Quidditch pitch, when you had to stay at Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione’s for a couple nights, I… forgot certain things I shouldn’t have.”_ _

__His eyes narrowed before widening. He looked like he had been Stunned._ _

__“Gray was right? You’d forgotten some stuff?” Orion demanded._ _

__Ginny decided not to take his excitement to heart. She smiled timidly and nodded._ _

"I _knew_ it! I knew it!” he proclaimed, placing his cone on the table. “You’ve been different. Gray was right! He _knew_ too."

__Grimacing at the sight of his melting ice cream, Ginny grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and placed it under his cone. Orion’s ice cream had been all but forgotten._ _

__“What have you forgotten?” he finally inquired once his triumphant cries ceased._ _

__Ginny frowned but was determined to stick with her decision. No lying._ _

__“A lot,” she told him. “The last thing I remember is from before you were born.”_ _

__Orion mimicked Ginny’s expression, his bewilderment intense._ _

__“You’ve forgotten all about me? And Gray? And Lyra?” he paused. “Have you forgotten dad?”_ _

__She didn’t need to reply, for the answer was obvious. Orion opened his mouth to speak then closed it, eyebrows furrowed. A pink tint colored his cheeks as he stared down at the table, clearly trying to understand her confession._ _

__“It’s not that I don’t want to remember you,” Ginny told him, desperation laced in her words. “It’s a head injury. It’s starting to come back to me but it’s slow. And I— I just wanted you to know the truth.”_ _

__Orion looked up, taking a deep breath before nodding to himself._ _

__“I knew there was something odd between you and dad,” Orion said matter-of-factly, picking up his ice cream cone again._ _

__Ginny blinked, surprised by the turn of the conversation. Orion continued to eat his treat, strangely calm._ _

__“Are you not upset?” Ginny cautiously asked._ _

__He shook his head and Ginny had to lean back in her seat from the surge of relief._ _

__“I’ve read plenty about Quidditch injuries,” Orion said. “Uncle Blaise always tells me about all the bloody and deadly injuries too. I’ve heard of con-cuss-ions,” he drew out the word. “And Uncle Blaise says that you’re not a real Quidditch player until you’ve broken at least two bones.”_ _

__Fighting the temptation to roll her eyes — bloody Zabini — Ginny reached across to touch her son lightly on his arm. Orion raised his eyebrows._ _

__“We’re best friends,” he told her meaningfully. “That’s what you’ve always told us. Me and you and Lyra and Gray, we’re all best friends. And best friends help each other, right?”_ _

__He paused._ _

__“I know you’d never forget me, forever,” Orion said softly._ _

__Moisture pricked the corners of her eyes, but Ginny hurriedly blinked them away. Merlin, she was emotional today. Squeezing Orion’s arm, Ginny nodded in agreement._ _

__“I’ll remember everything soon,” she promised._ _

__And she hoped she could keep that promise._ _

__Orion grinned widely._ _

__“I’ll help you,” he suggested. “In case you ever forget stuff when I’m around. I’ll help.”_ _

__Ginny nodded, warmed by his offer._ _

__“I’d like that.”_ _

__~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~_ _

__Once Orion had eaten the last of his ice cream, he and Ginny completed their shopping for the other Malfoy children. They destroyed any evidence of their sweet treat, which was mainly Ginny wiping Orion’s face several times, before finding their way back to George’s joke shop. Lyra and Gray seemed surprised by their arrival, unaware that they had been left alone. Then, with Ron’s help, they purchased all the items on the list Draco had given her._ _

__It was strange to see her handwriting noting down things she had once never needed. A pendant for Narcissa Malfoy, several books for Lucius Malfoy, an expensive set of china for Molly Weasley that had been long coveted… the list went on. They left Diagon Alley, stopping by the Leaky Cauldron for a late lunch._ _

__Ron accompanied Ginny and her children home before leaving to meet Hermione and his children at her parents’._ _

__“See you on Christmas Eve, Gin,” he kissed her cheek, heading out after._ _

__The fact that she was hosting a Christmas Eve dinner in her own home had completely slipped her mind. She recalled reading about it in Harry’s letter to her. The mere idea was headache-inducing. Regardless, there wasn’t much time to ponder her horrible decision to host a holiday dinner — she had three exhausted children to handle._ _

__Tuckered from their fun times in the joke store, each child was content with eating a small dinner before heading to their rooms. They assured her that they weren’t tired for sleep, but, upon checking on them later, they were all in a deep slumber. Tucking them in their respective beds, despite mumbled protests, Ginny found herself studying each child._ _

__When had she become a sap?_ _

__The idea didn’t bother her as much as it would have ten years ago._ _

__Satisfied with the children’s state, Ginny dimmed their candles and tidied up their toys before she headed back to the library. Now that she was alone, her body was beginning to sag with exhaustion. How did she manage to handle the children alone, for more than a few hours, without feeling absolutely drained?_ _

__A soft tapping on the library window caught her attention. An eagle owl hovered outside the glass, visibly agitated by the wait. As she pushed the window open, the owl fluttered into and around the room before landing on a chair by the fireplace. Draco’s owl eyed her haughtily, and she blinked in surprise. She could write Luna a letter. Draco had yet to arrive home and the children were asleep.  
Rushing to her nook behind the bookshelf, Ginny grabbed a piece of parchment and her quill. Dipping it in fresh ink, Ginny pressed the quill tip to the parchment and waited for the words to come to her._ _

_Luna,_

She paused. _I’ve lost my memory? I know there’s something going on with you and I need to know what it is? Why does my husband hate you?_ Although the questions sounded ridiculous, they were the ones she sought answers for. A large inkblot appeared where she rested the quill and she crumpled the parchment, tossing it into the trash. With a sigh, Ginny tried again.

_Luna,_

_I’m sorry I haven’t written you before now. I had an accident a few days ago and, as crazy as it sounds, I’ve lost a chunk of my memory. I’d really like to see you, as soon as you’re available. I could really use a friend right now. Please write me back._

_Love always,_

_Ginny_

__When she left her private space, the parchment placed in an envelope and sealed, the owl was waiting for her. Its leg was sticking out, as if it could read her intentions, and Ginny approached it with a smile. She tied the letter around the owl’s leg, informing it of the recipient, and fed it a treat. It nipped at her fingers gently as thanks and disappeared into the darkness of the night. She watched the sky for a second before closing the window._ _

__Curling up on a seat by the fire, Ginny rested her head on the armrest and stared into the dancing flames. Finally, she had reached out to Luna. She had accomplished her most important task of the day._ _

__She sighed contently as her thoughts wandered over the events of the day. Back at Florean Fortescue’s, Orion had mentioned something that bothered her. He had said that she and Draco were different than they were before. While technically true, his words held a positive tone rather than a negative one._ _

__How were they around the children if Orion, as young as he was, had picked up on their disagreements? Were they going to be scarred for the rest of their lives? She hoped not. They deserved so much better…_ _

_“You think I’d want to fuck_ another _woman who had been besotted by_ Potter _?”_

_Why had she asked him? It wasn’t worth the fight, she knew that, yet her mouth refused to stay shut. If he insisted on dragging her through hell, she was going to drag him down with her. Ginny tried to shake his hands off as he continued hissing in her ear, ready to fight, ready to push him away, ready to—_

__“Ginny?”_ _

__Her eyes snapped open and she leaned back in shock. Draco was kneeling beside her chair. He watched her movements, amused, as she regained a sense of her surroundings. The library. Kids were asleep. She must have fallen asleep too. And Draco… Draco was finally home from work._ _

__A single eyebrow lifted when Ginny let out a long breath. She smiled and his lips curled upwards as well, his hand reaching out to smooth her eyebrow. His casual touch made her heart constrict as she suddenly remembered her dream involving the broom closet._ _

__“Long day?” he asked her softly._ _

__Sitting up in the chair, Ginny stretched, hoping her blush wouldn’t give her away._ _

__“Longest day I’ve had in a while,” Ginny told him._ _

__He held out a hand and she took it gratefully, allowing him to pull her out of the chair. Lifting her hands to her neck, Ginny massaged her sore muscles as she followed Draco out of the library._ _

__“I didn’t mean to stay out late at work,” Draco apologized as they entered the kitchen. “Everything has to be done before the holidays so I left later than I thought I would.”_ _

__She waved away his apology and relief flashed across his face. Ginny stilled as she recognised the emotion. Funny that she could only recognise his relief. The rest she had to gauge and analyse on her own unless he allowed her to bear witness._ _

__“Hungry?” she inquired as he waved his wand at a random cabinet._ _

__The doors popped open and Draco reached inside, evidently knowing what to search for. He glanced over at her but shook his head no._ _

__“Ate at work,” he replied. “Would you like some wine?”_ _

__He pulled out a bottle just then. She nodded, though a bit hesitantly, and he waved his wand again. The bottle of wine floated towards the library, uncorking itself along the way, and two wine glasses appeared behind her, floating after the bottle. Ginny jumped, startled, but chuckled at Draco’s smirk._ _

__“How were the children today?” Draco questioned._ _

__Together, they followed the wine to its destination. By the time they arrived it had poured two glasses of the red liquid neatly, spilling not a single drop. The bottle hung in mid-air next to two armchairs and Draco sat in the one furthest from the fire. Ginny took the seat across from him, the warmth of the flames reinvigorating her face, and grabbed the glass that glided towards her. After she took a sip, savouring the flavour on her tongue and the subsequent loosening of her body, she responded._ _

__“I lost Orion today.”_ _

__Draco’s eyebrows rose sharply at her admission._ _

__“You lost him?” he repeated back to her. “In Diagon Alley?”_ _

__She nodded, uncomfortable at the thought of recounting the incident. Draco’s reaction confirmed what Orion had told her. It was very unlike her to lose track of her children._ _

__“We had separated from Ron and Lyra and Gray and…” Ginny paused, unsure if she wanted to admit why she had forgotten about their son. “It was so crowded. I wasn’t paying attention for a moment and… he was gone.”_ _

__Draco nodded slowly, sipping his wine lazily like she had done. Then he lifted a shoulder in a shrug._ _

__“I’ve lost each child at least three times,” he told her nonchalantly. “I’ve never told you about it but it’s true.”_ _

__Now it was Ginny’s eyebrows that rose._ _

__“Really?” she asked, a glimmer of hope rising within her._ _

__A soft smile stretched his lips as he inclined his head._ _

__“Really. Three times each, at least. Gray has a way of slipping away from me. I think Lyra does it because she knows I’ll buy her sweets after, no matter how horribly angry I get with her,” Draco paused. “It’s a terrible feeling. I’m sorry you went through that.”_ _

__Ginny searched his face, wondering if he was genuine. But he wasn’t mocking her and he certainly wasn’t angry with her. The realization warmed her. After Ginny tipped back more wine, she shot him an appreciative smile._ _

__“May I ask you another question?” Ginny whispered._ _

__He nodded again._ _

__“Did we mean to have all the children so quickly?”_ _

__Draco burst out laughing at her question, startling her. He leaned his head back against the chair and continued guffawing._ _

__“No, no, not at all,” he said, his mirth bringing a smile to her face. “Orion had been an accident. We had just gotten married. And then you wanted Orion to have a sibling closer in age, so we had Gray. We both were happy to be done after Gray but… Lyra came along unexpectedly.”_ _

__The fingers of his free hand drummed against the arm of the chair as he thought._ _

__“We were never upset about it, mind you,” Draco added. “You’re… you’re a wonderful mother. And they’ve brought us more happiness than we’ve ever expected. We figured we’d have more time to ourselves, though. The honeymoon bliss doesn’t last long with a newborn around.”_ _

__She shifted when the memory of his hand under her shirt, hot against her cool flesh, came to mind._ _

__“Is that why I quit Quidditch?” Ginny asked hurriedly, cheeks burning up from the phantom sensation._ _

__Draco lips twisted though he gave a slight nod._ _

__“That’s a bit more complicated,” he admitted. “With such young children, we wanted at least one parent home with them. I didn’t want a nanny to raise them, like my own childhood, and you couldn’t stand the idea of missing any important moments with the children. I had recently received the promotion at work and… you offered to stop playing professionally. It only lasted a year before you took up journalism.”_ _

__They sat in silence, though it was by far the most comfortable silence she had ever experienced with him. And Ginny realized she was having trouble keeping her eyes off of Draco. He was clearly tired, the nasty effects of the hangover from the morning beginning to reappear. Only sleep would fix him now. His hair was dishevelled and the button-up shirt he wore was untucked, the sleeves rolled up. She traced the lines of his body, his face, his arms, with her eyes, catching sight of a disfigurement that made her freeze._ _

__The Dark Mark stained the pale skin of his forearm. How had she not remembered he had received the Dark Mark? She pulled her legs up on the chair, curling her feet under her as she eyed it. He didn’t seem bothered by her scrutiny, though she could only assume that it was because she had seen it so many times before. Ginny tried to fight the words from escaping but couldn’t._ _

__“Did it hurt?”_ _

__Draco looked up at her when she spoke, having been as lost in his own thoughts as she had been. He stared at her, eyebrows furrowing, before glancing down at his exposed skin. She saw him freeze once he realized what she was asking about. Then he took a deep breath and met her gaze, unwavering._ _

__“Yes,” he replied simply._ _

__Ginny nodded, unable to break their gaze._ _

__“Did I hate it? When we first… started dating?” Ginny asked gently._ _

__His expression changed._ _

__“Do you hate it now?” Draco inquired instead, his voice devoid of emotion._ _

__Breaking away from his stare, she inspected the mark. Merlin, the sight of it still made her shudder, but it no longer meant anything. Voldemort was gone. The Death Eaters were non-existent, either serving their time in prison or dead. And Draco… hadn’t he proved himself? He had been young, so very young, when he took the Dark Mark. Hadn’t Harry said it happened during his sixth year? Draco had been a child._ _

__She looked up at him again and noticed that he hadn’t moved, barely breathed, since she asked._ _

__“No,” she whispered. “It’s not who you are, I know that now. But I doubt I knew that back then. I— what’s wrong?”_ _

__Draco had stood abruptly, placing his glass on the small table beside him, before running a hand through his hair. Ginny hesitated, feeling miserable at the distressed look on his face. Placing her glass on the ground, Ginny slowly rose from her seat. He was eyeing her as she approached. She sighed, mentally berating herself, forming apologies in her mind. Reaching for him, Ginny’s fingers curled around his wrist and tightened._ _

__“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Ginny murmured. “I had no right to ask about such a sensitive matter.”_ _

__His gaze dropped to her hand on his wrist, her own following suit. The wedding ring wrapped around her finger gleamed purposefully in the fire’s glow, causing them both to stiffen. Then Draco shifted his gaze onto her and her breath hitched in her throat. Red and gold danced across his features, haphazardly colouring his skin. The glow resembled war paint dyeing his skin, in Gryffindor colours. Then the flames shifted, sharpening the contours of his eyes, his cheeks, his nose._ _

__“You have every right,” he mumbled and, with his free hand, cupped the back of her head._ _

His lips met hers tentatively, as if he didn’t know her, as if they had never shared a kiss. Ginny hadn’t expected this; she hadn’t once imagined that he would _want_ to kiss her. But Draco’s lips were moving against hers, warm and soft and timid. She was sure she would remain frozen in place, but her body reacted instinctively. 

__She unwound, melting into his touch._ _

__His teeth caught hold of her bottom lip, nipping before sucking onto it. Goose bumps bloomed on her skin and she dropped his wrist to hold onto his shirt, pulling him to her. His other hand guided her closer, so that her chest brushed his._ _

__When Draco lifted his head, she found herself reaching for him again. He met her halfway. She felt his hand flex as it rested against the small of her back, yearning to wander. The thirst from her dream, her memory, which she had carried throughout the day, returned — like a snake slowly uncoiling. She could feel herself coming undone from the inside, and she briefly wondered what it all meant._ _

__A chill raced down her spine, making her sigh into the kiss, and groan at the unfamiliar feelings within her. The sound jolted Draco and he instantly released her as though burned. Taking several unsteady steps away from her, Draco combed a shaky hand through his hair. His stare was piercing, and she pressed a hand to her slightly swollen lips. The loss of heat was abrupt, as if she had been splashed in the face with cold water, and she blinked owlishly._ _

__“Don’t do that,” Draco commanded, though his voice lacked conviction._ _

__“Do what?” Ginny asked, dazed._ _

__“That,” Draco waved a hand in her general direction and she nodded, oblivious to what she was agreeing to. “Don’t touch your lips.”_ _

__Her eyebrows knitted in surprise at the bizarre request. Thoughtlessly, she bit her bottom lip. Draco exhaled noisily and turned away from her. She silently observed him as he took several deep breaths before walking over to his chair, grabbing the glass of wine and downing it. Then he faced her, his mouth working as he tried to decide on what to say._ _

__“We should go to bed,” he started. “But not to… we won’t… no shagging. We won’t shag.”_ _

__The words sent a familiar heat through her. She inhaled slowly and deeply, while Draco watched, his eyes heavy-lidded._ _

__“No shagging,” she repeated, though the words felt foreign on her tongue._ _

__He stared at her then shook his head repeatedly. A forlorn smile twisted his lips, and Draco groaned, angrily running both hands through his hair._ _

__“It isn’t fair to you,” Draco told her sharply. “Because you don’t understand. But this… this is how we are.”_ _

__Ginny shrugged, confused._ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

“We _fuck_ , Gin, and we’re good at it,” he blurted out hoarsely, sounding baffled that she didn’t understand. “But you… you don’t remember everything. So we can’t. And… if you keep playing with your lips… you’re going to make this very hard for the both of us.”

__She dropped her hand. While he spoke, she had unknowingly pressed her fingers to her lips again._ _

__“Please go to bed,” Draco requested, half-pleading. “I shouldn’t have let this happen but, hell, Ginny…”_ _

__He shook his head again, defeated. The voice in her head begged her not to leave, to let him show her what he had meant, to find out more. But Draco was right. It wasn’t fair to her. She would hate herself for sleeping with him, especially in her current state._ _

__Ginny knew that he wanted to go further, knew that he would kiss her again if she initiated. She could tell by the strain of muscles through his shirt as he held himself from rushing towards her. She could tell from his quickened breath and his flushed cheeks and the way he tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he studied her. Ginny just knew. Taking a shaky breath, Ginny nodded._ _

__“Right,” she said quietly. “I’ll go to bed.”_ _

He nodded curtly and she grabbed her glass of wine, finishing it as quickly as he had. Then she set the glass back on the ground and left the library, fixating her eyes ahead of her and not on her husband. When she arrived at their bedroom, Ginny’s body hummed, awake and alive and _starving_ for the touch of a particular man. Changing into her pajamas, Ginny climbed into bed, the lights automatically dimming around her.

__Draco still hadn’t appeared by the time she began to doze off, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to fall asleep in order to prevent an unavoidable awkwardness. Or maybe his thoughts were as muddled as hers, and he was hunched over in the library, trying to understand. The most likely scenario was that he hated himself for getting caught up in the moment, hated the weakness he showed, hated that he had kissed her._ _

__She wanted to mull and deliberate the situation from every angle, but sleep refused to elude her. The sound of footsteps along the corridor was the last thing she heard before she drifted into a slumber._ _

__~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this chapter! Lots of fun stuff coming up! Thanks to my beta, Maya-nii, as always!


	8. Day Six

_The tiny house smelled like the Burrow would on a cold, winter day — like freshly-baked mince pies, burning wood, and the alluring spice of hot apple cider. Ginny was rather proud of her accomplishments and, as she peered over at Draco, she was relieved to see him content. It was the first time she had cooked for anyone other than herself and Draco, and she had been worried that she had gotten carried away. However, Draco apparently didn’t mind that she had transformed his sleek, new house into one that would make the Weasley children reminiscent of their childhood._

_Even Zabini seemed at home as he spoke to Luna, Rolf, and George. Ginny watched as George rolled his eyes at Blaise’s words, visibly annoyed, before reaching over and popping a tart into his mouth. Her brother attempted to chew and swallow the entire confection, but a large chunk fell out. Desperately, he tried to shove the fallen piece back in before Blaise could mock him._

_Snorting quietly, Ginny turned her attention from the group and noticed that Draco’s attention was on George as well. His light eyes darted from her brother to her, as if he felt her gaze, and they shared an amused look. Draco’s lips twitched as he stared and her body instantly warmed. She was beginning to learn his various expressions, to really understand them. This particular look meant that he had found a situation amusing and was attempting to mask his delight for the sake of his dignity. It was a look he had begun to wear around Ginny often. Initially, Ginny had assumed he was fighting back a disgusted frown and she had hated when she could spot the telltale twitch of his lips. Now, she adored it._

_Ugh, she was disgusting._

_But his gaze on her held a certain tenderness. Biting back a smile, Ginny made her way over to the group, and Draco followed. They arrived at the same time, squeezing themselves in between Luna and George. Luna’s smile brightened when she saw Ginny._

_“I was just telling Blaise that my last exploration with Rolf was extremely successful,” she told Ginny dreamily. “We didn’t locate any Heliopaths but we did find a reclusive herd of Thestrals. And we were able to study them without any interference.”_

_Ginny glanced over at Rolf, Luna’s husband, and was surprised to see him collecting his belongings._

_“Are you leaving already?” Ginny asked Luna._

_Luna shook her head, running her hands along her dress._

_“No. I’m afraid Rolf scheduled a meeting with the naturalist committee we’re a part of, to discuss our findings with the Thestrals,” she informed her. “I’d much rather stay, however, so he’ll be attending it alone.”_

_An appreciative smile colored Ginny’s face as she tucked her arm into Luna’s. It had been a while since she was really able to spend time with her friend. Ages, really. Ever since Draco had stumbled into Ginny’s life, everything rapidly changed. Previously, Ginny would see Luna multiple times in a week. Nowadays, she rarely saw the witch._

_Rolf made a show of saying goodbye to everyone, though kissing Luna quickly, before Flooing from the house. The remaining group settled onto the seats around the fire. Ginny curled up next to Luna, prepared to bother her friend for details of her trip, when a loud voice pierced through the air._

_“Does it not bother you how easily he leaves you?”_

_Everyone glanced over at Blaise, silence blanketing the room._

_“Blaise,” Ginny warned._

_As she learnt Draco’s expressions, she had also been forced to understand Blaise’s, as the men were practically inseparable. With his lips twisted in a frown and his eyes flashing, Ginny realized he was frustrated. But why? Even Draco was staring at Blaise, startled, his eyebrows arched high._

_“Really, Blaise, this is hardly the time,” Draco admonished, eyes darting meaningfully to George before looking back to his friend._

_George, who typically didn’t hang out with the group, looked alarmed. Ginny regarded Luna, curious as to how the woman took Blaise’s sharp tone, and was surprised to see her smile soften, turning more affectionate, as she watched Zabini._

_“I appreciate your honesty,” Luna responded. “And your concern. But I think Rolf’s departure bothers you more than it does me.”_

_Blaise leaned towards Luna, still frowning, and Draco moved to stop him. He shook off Draco’s grip._

_“She’s pregnant,” he snapped, not to Luna, but to Ginny and Draco._

_Ginny looked at Draco, eyes wide and jaw dropped. Even Draco seemed shocked, hand hovering in mid-air before dropping to his side. How in the world had bloody Zabini known before Ginny? Had Luna told him? George appeared as if he was deciding between joking to break the tension or simply running from the room._

_“Sorry,” Blaise all but hissed._

_Luna shrugged, unperturbed, and her smile widened as she turned her attention to Draco, George, and Ginny._

_“Blaise noticed that I had been acting a little differently,” she explained happily. “I merely assumed I had caught the flu while searching for Heliopaths, but he insisted it was something more. So he called for a healer—”_

_Her surroundings changed, distorting and blurring, and Ginny was now outside. She basked in the warm sunlight and she closed her eyes, tilting her face to enjoy the pleasant heat. It was spring, finally. Ginny had been sure the winter would never end, though she didn’t mind the cold too much. Snow and frost simply meant that Draco would be less keen to get out of bed, which allowed Ginny more time with him. She smiled to herself as she reminisced over their long mornings in the bedroom, watching the snow fall while the children slept._

_The sound of children’s laughter caused Ginny to open her eyes and search across the garden for Neville as he pointed out blooming buds to the four young children that surrounded him. He had finally taken a weekend from Hogwarts to visit her, Luna, and the children. Naturally, he spent more time teaching the children about the flora and fauna around them than he did talking to Luna and Ginny. Not that Ginny minded, to be honest. She loved seeing the glow in Orion and Gray’s young eyes._

_At the thought of growing life, Ginny ran a hand over her extremely swollen belly. Luna must have caught sight of the action, for she stopped braiding long flowers in Ginny’s hair and sat down beside her. Her knees were brown with dirt, just as Ginny suspected hers were._

_“Is Draco still upset?” Luna inquired, her large eyes sincere and kind._

_Ginny smiled at her before shaking her head._

_“He was never upset,” she corrected, before grimacing._

_Perhaps that was a lie. When Ginny had found out she was pregnant with her third child, Draco hadn’t exactly been ecstatic. He had recently been spending more time at work and was already strained from maintaining familial and friendly obligations as well as work and mandatory public appearances. Ginny was fully aware of this and tried not to heed his initial frustration over her pregnancy. Though she was hardly over the moon about it either. The idea of a third child — so close in age to her two boys — frightened her, especially when she was still so young. And Draco’s annoyance had only fed her fears. Draco had apologized the next day, but she wasn’t sure she would ever forget his disappointment._

_She shrugged, knowing that Luna had watched the emotions play across her face as she thought._

_“He’s excited now,” Ginny finally said. “For a girl. He’ll spoil her.”_

_Luna nodded, her lips curled in a small, sad smile._

_“Yes, I’m sure,” Luna responded. “Rolf would love another — a girl.”_

_Ginny’s gaze found Neville and the children again, and spied Luna’s twin boys, Lorcan and Lysander. Their blonde curls were shockingly light, contrasting against their sun-kissed skin. They sat on either side of Orion, who held Gray in front of him with his little hands. The twins weren’t much older than Orion, and the trio had been inseparable since their first meeting._

_“And you wouldn’t?” Ginny asked._

_Luna sat up again, moving behind Ginny to continue braiding yellow flowers into her hair. Her fingers worked swiftly but gently. She hummed quietly for a moment and Ginny didn’t bother repeating herself. As Ginny had learned long ago, Luna’s mind wandered as it pleased and there was no point in interrupting her thoughts._

_“Another child,” Luna finally spoke, sounding odd. “Yes, perhaps one day.”_

_Ginny tilted her face towards the sun again and breathed out languidly. The sun blinded her momentarily and—_

She blearily opened her eyes. Her face still felt warm, and Ginny smiled to herself, content. Glancing around, Ginny stilled when she noticed that her right hand had been reaching for the empty spot in the bed next to her. Where was Draco? Ginny sat up, eyebrows furrowing as she glanced around the room.

His side of the bed appeared mildly slept in, as if he had laid down for a few moments, tossing and turning, before giving up altogether. A mixture of nausea and embarrassment hit her, and she took a deep breath. Did he feel strange sleeping beside her? Was Draco still terribly regretting the library incident? 

Ginny lifted a hand to her face, feeling her cheeks burn hotly in shame. Draco hadn’t seemed too upset when she left the library but… but what did she really know about him? Perhaps everything had been a mistake. Sure, _he_ had kissed _her_ but she was the one who had responded. Her body had never behaved similarly with anyone else, melting at a simple touch, reacting at an instinctive level.

Ugh, what was she doing? 

The sunlight softly radiated throughout the bedroom. She was up earlier than normal. Was Draco still in the house? Getting out of bed, and throwing on the silk robe, Ginny left the bedroom. As always, the children remained asleep in their respective bedrooms. She felt comforted knowing that the three young kids were the type to remain in slumber for long hours. 

_They get that from your side of the family, darling._

The voice in her head, an amused whisper, was certainly Draco’s. Ginny shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as she continued towards the foyer. She could remember, as easily as his words came to her, that Draco didn’t often sleep through the night. He had trouble falling asleep, especially when stressed, and took to roaming or doing more work to distract himself in the wee hours. Insomnia had plagued him since before he started attending Hogwarts. 

How odd that she could access key pieces of knowledge.

The foyer was dark and quiet but Ginny knew exactly where Draco was. With a simple touch, the study door swung open, revealing the shadowed space she hadn’t been in for some time. Fire burned low in a crate and several candles were almost down to the wick. Ginny stepped in slowly, spotting Draco after a brief look around the area. He was sitting on the windowsill, staring out at the yard. As she approached, his attention was diverted to her.

His lips twitched when their eyes locked and she froze by the doorway. She rested a hand against the wall as she curiously peered at him. The early morning light paled his naturally fair skin, but she could still spy the darkness under his eyes from lack of sleep, the automatic curl of his lips whenever he spotted her, and the warmth of his gaze as he eyed her in return.

“How did you know I’d be in here?” Draco asked.

Ginny found herself smirking at him and she shrugged. His words held their usual teasing lilt yet he seemed different. They both seemed different.

How strange that a kiss could affect the dynamics of a relationship. But she didn’t have to allow it. Perhaps… 

He was still watching her expectantly, so she pushed her thoughts aside to reply.

“I simply did,” she responded quietly.

Unexpectedly, her voice echoed around the room. Neither moved as they spoke — he remained by the window and she remained by the door — but Ginny yearned to stand by him. She had become accustomed to his morning peck on the cheek and felt empty without it. Even now, her cheeks burnt at the sight of her husband. Ginny could only hope he didn’t notice. 

He studied her as he always did, even from afar. 

“You’re beginning to remember things, aren’t you?” he inquired lowly.

Ginny tilted her head as she stared at him. She couldn’t tell if he was happy or upset by the idea of her regaining her memories. Possibly, he didn’t care. Maybe he was preparing himself for the inevitable fallout once things were back to normal. They both knew the time would come, after all. Her memories were going to return and… and… and then, what?

Merlin, her thoughts were in an endless whirl.

“Yeah, a little bit,” Ginny admitted, a soft sigh following her words. 

He was silent.

“Have you been in here all night?” 

Draco looked out the window again, his gaze finally leaving her, and she almost felt relieved. She lifted her hand to her face, hoping the flush would fade before he caught her. It had been ages since she blushed so fiercely around a person. The situation was rather annoying.

“I tried to sleep but,” he paused. 

“You have trouble sleeping sometimes,” Ginny supplied.

His piercing gaze found her as he nodded. She could almost see thoughts swirling in the depths of his grey eyes, and she knew that her words solidified what he had already believed — her memories _were_ coming back. Their delicate relationship wouldn’t last. After a moment, his gaze softened.

“I’ll be heading to bed soon,” Draco told her. “The extra hours provided me with time to finish up some documents for work. I’ll be staying home today.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. While it was the Saturday before Christmas, Ginny thought that Draco would work through the holidays. On the other hand, since he would be home, Ginny could leave the house and wander on her own. Perhaps it would help clear her head. 

Before she could fully contemplate her choices, she felt her lips move on their own.

“I think I’ll be seeing Maggie,” Ginny pondered aloud. “I haven’t met with her since the accident and she wrote to me the other day. If that’s all right?”

Draco remained silent and she wondered if he could tell, by the hitch in her voice, the way she rushed her words in the middle, that she was lying. How well did he know her? Even Fred and George had difficulties catching her in a lie. She fidgeted, but Draco didn’t seem to notice.

“No, that’s fine. Blaise will be here for dinner tonight, however, so you’ll need to return before then.”

She nodded and lingered in case there was anything left to mention. Draco turned back to the window. Stepping out of the office, the door shut behind her. Maggie would love to see her, Ginny knew, and she would visit her friend, time permitting. But there was a friend that abruptly came to mind while Ginny had brainstormed for activities to occupy her free time. Someone she could talk with to sort her concerns and offer support.

Parkinson.

Ginny paused. In the shadows of the quiet foyer, she could pretend that she heard Draco’s breathing within the office. The door separating them was one of the many barriers between her and her husband, and she lifted a hand to touch it. Her resolve faltered, and she hurried away before she could change her mind.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

By the time Ginny had showered, dressed, and eaten, it was barely eight. The children would be up soon, and she felt a twinge of guilt over leaving Draco, who would likely only manage an hour or so of sleep, with them. Concerned, she brewed a pot of coffee for him before leaving the house. The weather outside was chilly, their surroundings still frosty, and she made sure to bundle up with a thick cloak, gloves, and a hat. 

When she reached the edge of their property, she realized that she had no idea where Pansy lived. Her mind had mechanically conjured Pansy’s name at the thought of a confidant, but Ginny knew relatively nothing about the other woman. Shivering, Ginny cursed herself. She could ask Draco, of course, but she had a feeling that he wouldn’t be thrilled with her visit to Pansy without elaboration. To gossip? To ask questions he might not want answered? To get a differing opinion on how to handle her bizarre situation with Draco?

Harry, Hermione, her brothers, her parents… they all wanted her to be comfortable and happy. They were her family. And Ginny had a feeling that they were sheltering her from some of the unhappiness in her life. Or they simply were blinded from her dissatisfaction, lost in their own lives. They wouldn’t know Draco the way Pansy did. Ginny could run to Blaise, except her mind hadn’t whispered his name. Moreover, there was enough confusion with Blaise.

Closing her eyes, Ginny inhaled the harsh, frigid air. Her wand was gripped firmly in her hand as she tried to recall where Pansy lived. Within seconds, a cottage materialized from the darkness of her mind. The space around her blurred, her breath stolen from her lungs, as she was transported to another location.

Ginny stumbled onto her knees, taken aback by the change in the air around her. Salt. Ginny envisioned saltwater spraying into the children’s faces as they laughed by the beach. She looked up from the ground and blinked in surprise at the structure before her. 

Shell Cottage.

It was where Bill and Fleur lived, with their children. How in Merlin’s name had she ended up here? Ginny stood, brushing off the sand from her clothes. The cottage was undoubtedly what she had thought of and she hadn’t questioned her memory of Pansy’s home, merely allowing the magic to pull her along. Was her memory mistaken? Sniffing loudly, Ginny took a moment to consider her options before heading towards the small house.

If Bill and Fleur had noticed her arrival, and she neglected to greet them, they would mercilessly torment her during the Christmas Eve dinner. Besides, she hadn’t seen her oldest brother in ages. The front yard was the same as Ginny remembered, littered with shells that had fallen off the house’s exterior. She approached the front door and knocked sharply, hoping that she wouldn’t be kept for too long. 

The cottage was incredibly tiny on the outside, leaving many to wonder how a family of five could grow comfortably within. Bill hadn’t lived in the Burrow with all his younger siblings, shipped off to Hogwarts a month after Ginny was born, and Fleur had grown up in a wealthy household. Neither had been forced in a small space during their lives, except during the Second War. Ginny frowned and reached out to touch one of the many seashells embedded into the walls. 

“Ginevra Malfoy. What are you doing here?”

Ginny looked over, too preoccupied in her thoughts to realize that the front door had opened. Neither her brother, Fleur, or any of their three children had answered. It was Pansy. She wore a long, grey robe, her hair slightly tousled. Her lips weren’t stained with color and the skin under her eyes was tinted purple. 

Opening her mouth to speak, Ginny found herself struggling for words. 

“Do you… do you live here?” she finally managed.

Parkinson’s lips pursed before she nodded.

“Yes, clearly,” she drawled, glancing over her shoulder into the house. 

When Pansy looked back at Ginny, she was visibly contemplating her words.

“Do you need your brother’s new address?” Pansy offered. “They moved a few years ago but I have his address somewhere.”

So her memory had been right. Pansy must have moved into Bill and Fleur’s cottage sometime within the past decade. Ginny shuddered as a gust of wind swept across the yard, stirring the hair underneath her hat. 

“No, no,” Ginny mumbled. “I’m here to see you, actually.”

Parkinson’s eyebrows shot up.

“Are you?” she asked softly.

Pansy peered into the house once again but before Ginny could wonder why, she gave a loud, dramatic sigh and opened the front door further.

“Come in, then,” Pansy said. “It’s freezing out.” 

The older witch turned and re-entered the house, leaving Ginny on the front step. She hesitated. From the way Pansy had been wary of the cottage’s interior, Ginny surmised that she had a guest. Or she was concerned over a mess. However, upon entry, Ginny found the area tidy and well-kept. It was the polar opposite of when Bill and his family had resided in the cottage, crammed with children’s toys and various artifacts that Bill discovered and kept over his career.

The furniture was simple and dark in design, leaving plenty of room for one to stretch out and relax. A pile of books sat by one of the wide windows, next to an overstuffed chair. A large wooden easel rested by another window, a half-finished painting propped up on it. Ginny regarded her new surroundings in awe, learning more about her husband’s best friend with a look around the room than she had throughout her whole school career. 

With a wave of her wand, Pansy had a kettle on a stove in the open kitchen, which was connected to the main room. Ginny would have never guessed that Pansy Parkinson would live in such a small and homey place.

“Malfoy, I should warn you—”

Ginny was hardly listening as her eyes fell onto a familiar object. A record player. Her head tilted as she stared at it, surprised. The only reason Ginny knew the strange Muggle object was because Harry had been obsessed with them. He had bought one for nearly everyone in the Weasley family, to her father’s delight. For their then-shared flat, he had purchased a larger version with hand-carved designs.

And it innocently sat before her, in Pansy’s house.

Ginny walked up to the player and touched it gently. How many mornings had Harry turned it on, playing old Muggle music that Ginny would eventually find endearing? How often had he persuaded her to accompany him to Muggle London and search for new records? How many times had he laughed at her as she tried to pronounce various Muggle band names while they sat in their kitchen and listened to the new songs they had discovered?

The shared moments were no longer hers, and hers alone.

Ginny stared at Pansy, eyes wide. Before she could choke out the words from her throat, she heard footsteps descending from the second floor. She looked to the stairs and wished she was more surprised to see an unkempt Harry appear. He paused at the bottom of the steps, his eyes finding hers. 

“Oh,” he started then paused. “I was wondering whose voice I’d heard.”

He chuckled awkwardly, his gaze shifting to Pansy. They shared a short, silent look, and Ginny’s stomach squeezed. What… what was happening? Harry was here, in Bill and Fleur’s cottage, where Pansy now lived. He was here with Pansy. His old record player, _their_ old record player, was here. Pansy glanced at Ginny, eyeing her cautiously.

“This was what I wanted to warn you about,” she told Ginny.

She couldn’t discern her overwhelming feelings. Harry was here, looking as he often did in the morning, his hair messy and his eyes soft, adjusting his glasses. Even his bloody crooked smile was the same. Her insides twisted, and she was sure she was about to be sick.

“Did I know?” Ginny croaked.

Her breath caught in her throat and Ginny forced herself to sit so that she wouldn’t collapse. She had forgotten Harry. Yet seeing him in Pansy’s home now forced a reaction that she had been trying to run from. She had lost him. Everything they had — and everything she remembered — the early mornings together, the laughter and jokes, the family dinners at the Burrow, the times with Teddy—

“Yeah,” Harry replied slowly, interrupting her thoughts. “You did.”

Ginny looked up at him, not realizing that her eyes had drifted to the large window, staring out at the cliffs. He ran a hand through his hair, looking determined.

“Let’s go for a walk, hmm?” he suggested.

He hopped down the remaining stairs and raced out of sight. Pansy didn’t follow suit. Instead she leaned against the wall, gnawing on her lip. 

When Harry returned, he was clad in a cloak and scarf. He touched Pansy’s wrist lightly before approaching Ginny. She watched their interaction silently, hating herself, and when he neared her, she stared at him with a frown. Harry simply smiled, extending a hand. Left without an alternative option, she took it and, together, they left.

The wind blew strongly and loudly, though their surroundings remained quiet. Harry led her away from the cottage and onto a path they used to walk along that led to the garden. Bill and Fleur had chosen to keep the garden further away from the house and it had grown exponentially from the last time she had seen it. During the spring, the garden would be filled with hundreds of flowers. Now, it was barren, a skeleton of what it had been.

Harry perched himself on a tiny mound of dirt, stretching his legs out in front of him. He patted the spot next to him and Ginny sat wordlessly, her arm brushing his. In the silence, they could hear the ebb and flow of the sea. The motions soothed Ginny’s wounded pride, nursing the loss she felt when Harry appeared on the stairs. Finally, he spoke.

“I hadn’t wished to upset you the other night, when you came to my flat,” he began.

The passing wind caressed his words but she heard him clearly. She let her eyes shut for a moment. When she had visited Harry on her first night home, she had been distraught and looking for… for some way out of the life she had created. And he wouldn’t help her. Ginny had been certain, after the accident, that she could fix the situation between her and Harry, that they would be fine again. However, several days had passed since that thought crossed her mind.

She loved Harry. But she had forgotten about him. The accident hadn’t forced Harry out of her mind like it had her husband and children. No, Ginny had willingly pushed him to the back of her mind, had willingly decided to focus on Draco Malfoy instead, to let him into her heart and—

“How did this happen?” she asked, feeling strained. “I mean… you and Pansy? Me and Draco? How…”

She took a deep, shuddering breath as she looked towards the cliffs. The sea spanned out, endless, fading into the ash grey of the sky. Ginny turned to Harry. The corner of his lips lifted as he glanced back at her.

“Once Louis was born, your brother knew he wouldn’t be able to stay long. The cottage was too small for them,” Harry started, his fingers picking up random stones buried in the dirt. “He came to me because, well, he knew that I wouldn’t want just anyone here.”

He cleared his throat and their gaze simultaneously wandered to the garden. Ginny could spot the large, white stone ahead — Dobby’s. Harry had never considered changing the headstone, to a grander one, because he didn’t want to forget the pain of Dobby’s death, the struggle of digging his grave by hand, the difficulty of carving Dobby’s name into the stone. Growing up, Harry had experienced loss. But Dobby’s had been different.

She inhaled deeply, her hand finding Harry’s easily. 

“I couldn’t leave him,” Harry told her, breath catching. “I bought the property from Bill. I had thought about moving here, to be honest, and whenever one of your nieces or nephews asked, I’d give it to them. But then… Pansy reached out to Bill about the cottage. He sent her to me.”

Harry shrugged.

“I had told her I’d be around often to see Dobby, and that she’d have to be okay with that in order to live here. And she hadn’t taunted or mocked me or done anything horrible so I let her move in while I stayed at my flat. We became friends.”

Ginny squeezed his hand as the grip around her heart loosened. She _knew_ Harry, she knew him as well as any of her family members, and she could hear how relaxed he sounded as he spoke of Pansy. 

“And then more?” she prompted.

He let out a low laugh but nodded.

“And then more,” he agreed. “You were married to Malfoy and Orion had come along by then. I was happy for you, I don’t want you to think that I wasn’t, but I couldn’t watch everyone get on with their lives while I dealt with my own, uh, demons.”

Harry faced her fully, regarding her kindly. Merlin, she missed him. Ginny hadn’t realized it until moments ago when she looked at the man she once thought she would marry. They could have had children, maybe three or four. Or they could have remained childless and explored the world together, quit their jobs and just… She sighed.

“Are you very in love with her?” Ginny asked.

His smile widened and he shrugged again, sheepishly.

“Yes,” he confessed. “Just don’t tell Parkinson that.”

Ginny giggled though her amusement was brief. The pain of her loss still lingered. She had moved on with her life, years ago, from Harry and what they had together. And he had moved on too. 

Since the last memory she had of Harry was happy, she found herself mourning the official end of their relationship. What if they had tried harder? What if she had stopped working as much — would they have still fought? What if they had gone on the vacation they had spoken of, for months, but never actually planned? She exhaled, leaning her head against Harry’s shoulder.

“After your accident, I couldn’t help thinking about how we ended,” Harry muttered, as if reading her mind. “You were looking at me like you used to, like I was… your answer to everything. It was bizarre. I don’t think it was a mistake, the end of our relationship, because you’re still one of my best friends. But… if we hadn’t been so young, if Voldemort and the war hadn’t happened, we could have been really happy, I think.”

Ginny smiled sadly up at him, watching his brilliant green eyes scan the horizon as she had done.

“Yes, perhaps,” she whispered back.

The wind stirred the sand around them and Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny’s shoulders, sheltering her from the onslaught. The gesture was familiar to her, so right. If only things had turned out differently.

“I can’t believe I had kids before you did,” Ginny remarked, laughing.

Harry laughed as well and she felt the vibrations echo in her chest. 

“You were rather captivated with Malfoy,” he told her. “And… I realized my desire to have kids was an excuse for me not to deal with… many things.”

Ginny could only guess what he meant. He had spoken of dealing with personal demons. Demons that Ginny was oblivious over. She hoped he found comfort in Pansy, and that they could heal one another.

“How were you fine with Draco and I?” she asked curiously. “You _hated_ him, for years. We all did. It must’ve been an insult to you—”

“Hey, stop that,” Harry interrupted. “Gin, you were so happy when you met Malfoy. Yeah, it was annoying—”

She knocked elbows with him and he started laughing again. 

“Annoying but if you managed to love him, we knew we could find something to like about him too,” he continued. “And if it weren’t for you and Luna, I never would have gotten together with Malfoy— with Draco to work on legislation for Azkaban.”

Ginny stared at him in surprise. She didn’t know she had anything to do with getting Harry and Draco to work together. And Luna was a part of it too. How interesting. The desire to question him more was overpowering but the words wouldn’t form in her brain. It seemed like every second she was learning something new about her husband, their marriage, their life together. If she wasn’t such a coward she wouldn’t wait for her memories to come back to find out the truth.

But she just couldn’t do it.

She was too afraid of ruining what she had with Draco. As she sat, head resting on Harry’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around her to keep her protected from the wind, she realized she had known things were done with Harry since she first went to his flat. He had turned her away and she had gone home to her husband and… had hardly thought of her ex-boyfriend again. It wasn’t till now that she was willing to admit it but, nonetheless, she must have known it was true that morning she came home to find Draco waiting for her in the library.

Ginny sighed and Harry squeezed her closer. 

It wasn’t long till they decided to head back to the cottage, before Pansy contemplated killing them both for keeping her waiting. The mood between them lightened and they joked and chatted on the short walk back. As they approached the front door, Harry stopped her.

“I meant to ask,” he began, humor disappearing. “Is everything okay?”

She realized he was asking about her stopping by the cottage to begin with. Laughing uneasily, she shrugged.

“Yeah, I just, you know, wanted to talk to Pansy,” Ginny stuttered. “Girl stuff.”

Harry laughed out loud as he reached for the doorknob.

The door opened before Harry could turn the knob and Pansy stood there, arms crossed and one eyebrow perked. Harry grinned at her as her eyes swept over the pair.

“Took long enough, didn’t you?” she snapped, though there was no anger in her voice. “Come in, the tea is getting cold.”

Ginny shut the door behind her once they entered. Harry approached Pansy, squeezing her wrist, speaking to her through the simple action. The scowl on Pansy’s lips relaxed into a tiny smile at his touch and Ginny looked away, feeling as though she was intruding on a private moment. To get away, she entered the kitchen and shed her cloak, gloves, and hat. By the time she was finished, the moment between Harry and Pansy had passed.

Harry, however, had no intentions of staying at the cottage. He offered both woman a kiss on the cheek before heading out, making excuses of meeting up with Teddy and helping Andromeda wrap presents. When the front door clicked closed, Ginny looked at Pansy apologetically.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she began but Pansy stopped her. 

“You never show up here unless something is wrong,” Pansy said simply, pulling her robe tighter around her before taking a seat across from Ginny. “So what is it, then?”

Ginny frowned before focusing on why she was at the cottage. Where to begin? She had come to Pansy because something told her to and, from what Pansy said, it was clear this wasn’t the first-time Ginny went to her for comfort. Two matching sets of china floated to table, then the kettle, cream, and sugar. Going through the motions of making her tea, Ginny took her time trying to find the right words. 

Cho came to mind as soon as she took her first sip of the warm tea. And, suddenly, Ginny knew why she was here. It was a fact she had been ignoring the past twenty-four hours, since her run in with Draco’s coworker. She had thought he was cheating. And, though she had initially pushed the ridiculous idea away, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. Did he have an affair? Ginny needed to know. His anger when she had asked him, the memory of his indignation, had calmed her momentarily but now the idea of him with Cho was bothering her again, prodding at her repeatedly till it was looked at. 

Even after their shared kiss the night before, even after she realized that the looks he gave her delighted her rather than annoyed her, that she rather liked having him around, Cho’s words still worried her. At some point in the last decade, Ginny had thought Draco was having an affair. She could only hope that Pansy could put her doubts to rest.

“I ran into Cho Chang yesterday,” she started. 

Pansy didn’t react to her words, other than lifting her cup to her lips and taking a long sip. When Ginny didn’t continue, the other woman prompted her.

“Where was that, then?” Parkinson questioned politely.

She could remember the way Cho’s voice had hitched when she realized she had crossed a line. The memory made Ginny’s stomach tightened. 

“Diagon Alley,” Ginny answered before lifting a hand to her lips. “Has Draco ever cheated on me?”

The question came without warning and the abruptness of it startled the other woman. Pansy’s cup dropped to the table with a clatter and Ginny flinched at the harsh sound. Pansy leaned forward in her seat, her eyes narrowing.

“No,” she replied sharply. “Draco has never cheated on you.”

Ginny’s fingers trembled against her lips. There was such conviction in Parkinson’s voice that she had to wonder if Pansy knew what she said to be the truth or if she was simply that good at covering Draco’s tracks. But it was clear that of all the things Pansy had been expecting to be asked that question was not one of them. 

“Do you not believe me?” she asked after a moment of silence, incredulous.

No, no, it wasn’t that she didn’t believe her. Or… or maybe that was it. Ginny knew next to nothing about Pansy Parkinson, except that she considered herself one of Draco’s best friends. Except that she was the person Ginny knew she could go to when worried. Except that she was the witch that Harry had fallen in love with.

“ _Ginevra_ ,” Pansy snapped and Ginny straightened in her seat, focusing on the world around her again.

She shook her head and her face reddened under Pansy’s intense scrutiny. Her violet eyes followed Ginny’s movements.

“I keep… I keep having random flashbacks,” Ginny confessed hesitantly. “And I can’t piece together the whole story.”

Ginny looked down at the table, into the cup of tea, and turned the china so that the liquid inside of it swirled. After she had a second to think, she met Pansy’s gaze again.

“You met Cho Chang at Diagon Alley yesterday,” Pansy said, filling the silence. “And now you’re asking if Draco has ever cheated on you? Do fill me in because I feel I’m missing something.”

Bracing herself, Ginny told Pansy about her meetup with Cho at Diagon Alley. She told her how she could remember asking Draco about it, sometime in the past, and how angry he had been. How did someone properly describe the feeling of having once been so sure about something then losing the confidence of those thoughts? Ginny had certainly believed before that Draco had cheated on her but now, when she thought of him from the past few days, she wasn’t sure how she had ever believed that.

Pansy listened quietly, allowing Ginny to properly struggle over her words and emotions. Finally, when she was finished and rather exhausted from the whole ordeal, Pansy responded.

“You never came to me before with concerns of Draco cheating. And I can’t believe he would ever do that to you. And with _Chang_? That’s a stretch, even for you,” Pansy told her, laughing slightly when she said Cho’s name.

But her words were comforting, and it offered Ginny some relief.

“Why is it a stretch?” she asked curiously.

Pansy tilted her head.

“Well, if you must know, Chang has been with Astoria Greengrass for ages now. It’s not common knowledge, as their relationship is frowned upon by Astoria’s family, but it’s the truth.”

Ginny groaned, running a hand over her face. Cho had introduced Ginny to Astoria just yesterday. How had she not noticed? Likely because she had been in the process of being haunted by her husband’s words. But what Pansy said helped ease Ginny and she rested more comfortably in her seat. Pansy didn’t seem too perturbed by Ginny’s line of questioning as she picked at her nails, her nose scrunched.

“What else have you been remembering?” Pansy inquired, no longer worrying over her nails.

Shrugging, Ginny chewed on her bottom lip.

“I remember fights with Draco and, sometimes, I feel like I’m remembering these… things that have hidden meanings. I just can’t figure it all out,” she admitted. “But I also remember so much more about Draco. It wasn’t all yelling and being angry with each other. There was _more_ to us. I’m afraid I’m beginning to enjoy myself around him.”

Pansy smirked and the tension in the kitchen eased. Leaning an elbow on the table, Pansy eyed Ginny.

“You have a crush on your husband?” she asked dryly. “How alarming.”

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“It’s not a crush,” Ginny promised her. “We’re just trying to-”

“Come off it,” Pansy interrupted, standing from the table and taking her cup with her. “You were both annoyingly attached at the Ministry ball the other night.”

“After we were done fighting,” she pointed out.

Pansy had her back against the counter now and was watching Ginny quietly. Then she sighed.

“If you haven’t realized yet, Draco’s always been possessive of what he views as _his_ ,” the older witch informed her, sidestepping their previous conversation. 

A chill raced up Ginny’s spine, wondering what Pansy meant.

“I don’t understand,” Ginny admitted when some time had passed.

Pansy’s lips tugged into a frown. The sound of the wind outside the cottage filled the silence. Ginny wanted to speak again, to push Pansy to say something, but instinct cautioned her not to.

“Draco isn’t perfect, Ginevra,” Pansy warned her at last. “And you’d do well to remind yourself of that, as your memory returns.”

There was more to Pansy’s advice, to her words, and Ginny somehow knew what it was. 

_And you’re not perfect either._

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Undoubtedly, Ginny’s hours spent at Shell Cottage changed her view on several things, though she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, really. She certainly hadn’t thought she’d find Harry at the cottage when she went to speak to Pansy. But every time she thought back on the loss of their relationship the pain seemed to lessen. After all, she had known about him and Pansy before the accident and had been fine with it. Ginny couldn’t imagine Harry lying to her so easily about something like that, so she was forced to trust him on the matter.

Ginny also hadn’t been anticipating words of caution from Pansy about her own relationship. Despite Pansy’s warning about Draco’s possessiveness, that he wasn’t perfect, Ginny found something stirring in her when she thought on her husband. He was at home, with their three children, waiting for her. If anything, the realization that she was not meant to be with Harry should only help her move onto something potentially greater with Draco. Draco hadn’t cheated. She knew that now, for sure; especially if Pansy’s startled and flustered response was any indication of how ludicrous the idea was. After lingering outside of Shell Cottage, collecting her thoughts and attempting to label her feelings, Ginny recognized that her view of her husband was changing yet again.

When Ginny finally arrived home, Lyra was the first to greet her, in the foyer. It was nearing lunch and the little girl had a firm grip on a sandwich, several large bites missing from the bread.

“Mummy!” Lyra cried, racing up to Ginny.

She threw one arm around Ginny’s legs, hugging her close while tightening her grip on the sandwich. Ginny grimaced when a piece of turkey fell from the sandwich and landed on the floor. 

“Hello, my love,” Ginny greeted, bending down so she was eyelevel with her daughter.

Lyra grinned, her tiny teeth widening her smile.

“Where were you? I don’t like eating breakfast without you, not at all. Did you miss me too, mummy? Daddy’s very tired,” Lyra spoke quickly, a characteristic that Ginny had begun to associate with the little girl. “He keeps falling asleep.”

Ginny snorted without meaning to and Lyra’s grin grew larger. 

“And where is your daddy at, then?” she asked.

Lyra reached out and grabbed onto one of Ginny’s hands. Her grip was sticky. But she tugged Ginny after her, leading her upstairs, into Orion’s room. On the tiny bed, Draco laid asleep, propped up by pillows. His feet were hanging off the end and Ginny giggled behind her hand at the sight. Her sons turned at the sound. Gray had been playing with his dragon toy and Orion had been flipping through a Quidditch magazine, with a half-built Potions kit beside him. When they spotted Ginny, both their faces split in a smile.

“Thank Merlin you’re home, mum. Dad is so _boring_ ,” Orion cried dramatically, tossing his magazine to the side.

Gray stood and rushed to her, his tiny hands grabbing at her free arm. 

“Where’d you go, mummy?” he asked. “We tried building the Potions kit, mummy, but daddy fell asleep, which was rather silly, wasn’t it? You never fall asleep when you watch us. Can we play with the Potions now, please?”

“Yes, please!” Orion started collecting some of the kit in his arms. “I can show Uncle Blaise at dinner tonight. Gray, help me, will you?”

The younger boy ran over to Orion and started helping collect the tiny cauldron and various bottles. This must be the Potions kit Blaise had been asking after the other day. Ginny groaned internally at the thought of putting it together and the mess it would make once the boys were able to properly play with it. She could remember Percy’s Potions kit when they were younger and how Fred and George continually sabotaged it so that whatever was poured in the cauldron would explode and coat the person closest to it.

“Let’s go downstairs, boys,” Ginny said, nodding towards the corridor. “I’ll wake this one up.”

She motioned to Draco.

Orion huffed as he stood. Gray passed by Ginny and Lyra released her hold on her mother, rushing after Gray and asking to hold one of the vials. Their voices echoed as Gray continually said no to his sister. Ginny looked at Orion, who had crept up to her. He motioned for her to lean closer to him.

“Dad doesn’t sleep very well sometimes, mum,” the little boy told her, attempting to whisper but failing miserably. “We should let him stay here. I don’t mind, really. I’ll just ask him to make my bed when he wakes up.”

Ginny’s eyebrows perked.

“Good idea,” she agreed.

Orion gave her a big wink before sidestepping her and leaving her in his room. Ginny watched him walk away, her heart squeezing. 

“He’s giving away all my secrets, isn’t he?” a voice mumbled tiredly.

Turning her attention back into the room, Ginny grinned when she saw Draco’s eyes open briefly as he turned in the tiny bed. Ginny wanted to approach the bed, to get closer to him, but found her feet were glued to the ground, just as they had been in his study earlier. As much as she wanted to be near him, she couldn’t help but wonder how she’d react being close to him again. Her thoughts on him were confusing and blurry.

When Ginny had once believed she would never find Draco good company, she did. And when she was sure she’d never find him charming, she had. Last night, when he had kissed her, she was rather positive she wouldn’t react to him at all, too frozen in shock; instead she had melted at his touch. Now, after Pansy claimed she had a crush on Draco, who knew what she would do? Because Ginny _did_ like her husband. She hated to call it a crush but there was certainly something there that hadn’t been before. Better not risk it.

“Falling asleep on child duty?” she questioned playfully, crossing her arms and leaning in the doorway. “Shame, shame. I never do that.”

Draco’s lips curled upwards and his eyes opened again. They were saggy from fatigue but she found herself enjoying the process of him focusing on her.

“I can’t believe my own son would tattle on me,” Draco muttered. “Gray could’ve at least pretended you’ve fallen asleep once or twice. But, no, I am the villain and you are the hero.”

Ginny laughed, though she was surprised to see a twinkle in his eyes. His gaze flickered over her.

“How was Maggie’s?” he asked.

Her laughter died and panic nipped at her. Could Draco tell how tense she had become?

“She was worried after me,” Ginny lied. “But it was good to see her again.”

Draco made a sound of agreement before sitting up in the bed. Did he know she was lying? Ginny couldn’t tell. She tried to relax as she looked over her husband. It wasn’t a crime to lie to someone. But, oddly enough, it felt weird to not tell Draco the truth for the second time that day.

After a second, a smirk bloomed on his lips.

“Have I done something wrong?” Draco inquired lightly.

Ginny straightened, her eyebrows furrowing at his question. 

“Come sit with me,” he continued, his eyes darting to the bed then back to her.

There was something about the way he spoke that made Ginny’s breath hitch. It was as if he were challenging her, as if he somehow knew her internal struggle. 

She didn’t realize she was wavering by the doorway until she saw one of his eyebrows perk. Ginny mentally berated herself— this was fine, it wasn’t like he was going to do anything—but she felt her face reddening. The idea of being next to him, of feeling his heat, gave her flashes of the night before. Merlin, she was an adult! Ginny could handle sitting beside someone she had kissed. They were married. It was time to grow up.

Forcing herself to walk towards him, Ginny took a seat on the end of the bed. Draco shifted his legs to make room and she leaned backwards, so that her back was against the wall. 

The familiar smell of mint assaulted her immediately, filling her lungs, and she remembered inhaling his breath the night before. She could remember reaching for him when he pulled away, desperate for more. She could remember that he had met her halfway, his lips warm and firm. Hesitantly, she glanced at Draco. 

“I don’t bite, Ginny,” he murmured. 

Goosebumps rose on her skin and she let out a slow breath. Was the memory of last night not haunting him too? She stared at her husband, taking in the measured rise and fall of his chest, the pieces of hair that fell over his eyes, the wrinkles by his mouth. For Draco, this wasn’t the first time they had kissed. Perhaps it didn’t bother him at all. 

“Gin?”

She jolted when she realized he had still been speaking to her.

“Sorry, what?” 

His familiar smirk came back, brightening his face.

“I was asking if you had spoken to Orion about the accident. There’s something different about how he’s acting,” Draco drawled. “But you seem lost in your thoughts. Is everything alright?”

Was he teasing her? Or was he truly concerned? Ginny couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. Last night he had told her there would be no shagging. So she could only assume he was adding no more kissing in there also. That meant no more thinking about last night. Or thinking about Draco in that way, at all. It was rather unnecessary to keep thinking of the way his hand had flexed against her back, eager to wander her skin. And there was no point to continue reminding herself of how shaken he had been after he pulled away, as if _her_ touch had done something to _him_. 

If she could just stop associating him with the feelings his lips had inspired within her, then all would be well. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?

“Gin?” 

Draco had sat up completely while she had been distracted. She jumped when he grabbed her arm. 

“Sorry,” she said again, breathless.

Merlin, what was happening to her? Her cheeks flushed but she forced herself to smile.

“Yeah, I told him after what happened yesterday, what with losing him,” Ginny rushed to say. “I meant to tell you last night but—”

She stopped herself from finishing the sentence. _But then we kissed_. Draco stared at her, his gaze making her feel rather warm, and she rushed to her feet.

“I’ll go help them with that kit, I suppose,” she rambled. “You should get more sleep. Or I can make a proper lunch, perhaps? Anyway, you know where I’ll be… which is wherever the children are. So, yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

Ginny made sure to shut the bedroom door behind her when she escaped the room. Groaning, she covered her face with her hands, leaning her back against the door. She was an idiot. If anything, her meeting with Pansy made her situation with her husband worse, she decided.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Perhaps idiot hadn’t been the correct way to describe herself. A fool? Blundering imbecile? Awkward harpy? Any of those terms seemed to fit her much better than idiot. Ginny simply couldn’t handle herself around Draco at the moment. Pansy must’ve slipped something in her tea this morning, rendering her incapable of acting like a regular human around her husband. 

After he had woken from his nap, Draco had been witness to several humiliating acts that Ginny performed. She had shattered a plate when he had arrived in the kitchen, though she blamed him for startling her. In a way, he had frightened her but Ginny knew it had nothing to do with how quietly he entered the room. It had more to do with the way he had smiled when she noticed him, his eyes creasing at the corners. Ginny had found herself staring and, well, the plate had slipped from her grasp.

Thankfully none of the children had witnessed that. Only her husband, whose lips had twitched but who had shown no other signs of having noticed. 

But the next act was harder to explain. She had been sitting in the library with Gray, flipping through a novel as he read his own book out loud. When Draco had entered the room with Lyra and Orion, who had been outside in the snow, she had found she couldn’t stop tracing his lean frame with her eyes. Merlin, how had she not noticed how his shirts flattered him before? Had she been blind? Ginny hadn’t realized how odd she looked till Orion asked what was wrong with her.

In Lyra’s own words, her face had gone as red as her hair.

The blush didn’t fade right away, either. Which was rather annoying, seeing as each child had made sure to point it out whenever they had looked at her. Gray had been concerned that she was ill again and wanted her to go see a healer; he had stated the idea multiple times to Draco. Lyra had been amused, giggling loudly whenever their eyes met. And, more sympathetic than his brother and sister, Orion wouldn’t stop running up and whispering to her that everything would be okay.

Then, when she had gone into the kitchen to escape the library, under the guise of getting hot cocoa for the children, she had found herself caught up listening to Draco speak in the other room. He hadn’t even been saying anything of importance but the way his words curled made something inside of her tighten. A flood of warmth had hit her and she had turned away as the kettle poured water into each of the mugs. If she didn’t pull herself together, she had thought, she was never going to make it through dinner with the family and Blaise tonight. 

When she had turned back to the mugs, she realized the kettle had poured hot water all over the counter, missing the mugs completely. Ginny had rushed to clean the mess just as Draco had walked in with Lyra. 

“At least some things never change,” Draco had teased as he cleaned the chocolaty water with a simple wave of his wand. 

It had been a rather rough day. And she was mortified. 

Ginny Weasley had a crush on Draco Malfoy. And she was acting like a bloody eleven-year-old trying to deal with it. There was no point denying it now that Parkinson put the idea in her head.

So she hid away in her little study. The children weren’t too pleased but Draco didn’t seem to mind. She flipped through some of the photo albums again, each picture more precious to her than they had been the first time she looked at them. Relaxing in her chair, Ginny’s eyes wandered to the sole window in the room. Outside it was bright but the snow was beginning to melt, bringing more color to the world. 

If this was how things had gone ten years ago, whenever she and Draco had first begun to speak civilly to each other, it was a wonder that he had even kept contact with her. She hadn’t acted so childish and clumsy since she had admired Harry. At least she wasn’t writing Draco poems. Though his reaction to one of her poems would likely be worth the humiliation she’d experience. Giggling, Ginny found herself looking at her wedding ring again.

But, alas, he must have found her quirks delightful. He had married her, after all. Or, hopefully, she had managed some control around Draco back then. Ginny had always considered herself rather smooth when flirting with men. She wasn’t sure of her own judgement now. Had she been the laughing stock of the wizarding world whenever she had a crush? Did she always act like this? When was the last time she hid to get away from someone she liked?

Ginny sighed. No, she didn’t always act like this. Her mind and body were competing to see which could become more comfortable around Draco the fastest and in doing so was driving Ginny absolutely mad.

Lowering her eyes, Ginny stared at the drawer she had been pointedly ignoring since she entered the nook. The idea of looking at the divorce papers now, after everything that was coming to life between her and Draco, seemed like a bad omen. But her fingers itched to read over the papers again, to attempt to come to terms with her past, to try to find something she might not have seen before. Her memory was coming back so randomly that looking over the papers again just might help her.

Did she really want that, though?

It didn’t matter. Ginny was already reaching for the bottom drawer. She yanked it open and reached inside for the papers. Maybe, just maybe, they could explain something— but her fingers met the bottom of the drawer, scrapping painfully against the wood. Where did the papers go? Leaning down, Ginny peered in. The drawer was empty. Completely empty. 

Did she put the papers in a different drawer? She knew her memory was spotty but she had been so sure she had placed them back where she had found them. Pulling open each drawer, Ginny quickly went through the old letters and random pieces of parchment before slamming every drawer shut with no luck.

The divorce papers were gone.

“Looking for something?”

Ginny spun around, face coloring automatically. But it was Blaise who stood in the doorway, not Draco, and she let out a loud sigh of relief. Blaise’s eyebrows lifted briefly and he tilted his head.

“It’s just you,” Ginny muttered, brushing her hair from her face as she straightened herself.

Blaise’s lips pursed.

“That’s not nice, now, is it?” Blaise scoffed.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny stood up to greet Blaise. She’d have to worry over the missing papers later. Blaise extended his arms for a hug and, though she felt weird for a brief moment, she leaned into him. He embraced her tightly before releasing his hold on her. 

“Dinner time already?” Ginny asked miserably.

Sitting down with Draco and Blaise was the last thing she wanted to do. Blaise’s eyes narrowed at her tone.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he chided. “It’s only the night before Christmas Eve and your very best friend has arrived to spend time with his favorite family.”

A smile forced its way to her lips.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s been a weird day.”

He made a sound of agreement, though she wasn’t sure if he was agreeing that she had had a weird day or that he too had a strange day. But she didn’t question it. Together, the pair left her study and entered the library. 

“So,” Ginny started, hoping to distract herself from the realization that she could run into Draco at any second. “You just missed us? Or is it tradition for you to come here for dinner before Christmas Eve?” 

“I’ve nothing else to do during the holidays,” he informed her nonchalantly. “My mother is always away with whatever admirer she’s lured in. And I would rather spend time with McGonagall than time with my mother, anyway. I’ve no one else to see. Nowhere else to go.”

Ginny stared up at him in surprise at his brutally honest answer. Blaise glanced down at her, a genuine smile on his lips. She wasn’t sure if this was the first real smile she had ever seen from him or not, though surely at some point over the last ten years he had to have acted like a real human and smiled at her. But this was the first one Ginny could remember. It lightened his features, softening the harsh, hawk-eye stare he often wore. He had always been attractive, annoyingly so, especially since he had always been such a git, but the smile did wonders for him.

“I’d rather you know the truth,” Blaise continued. “Draco has been one of my closest friends for so long, ever since our last year at Hogwarts. And you quickly rose beside him. Your children…”

He stopped, clearing his throat as his smile faltered. They had stopped walking through the library and she reached out, touching his arm gently.

“Is everything okay?” Ginny asked softly.

Blaise took a deep breath.

“I’ve been rather lost in thought the last few days,” he confided. “Because of--”

And she knew why without any further explanation. The name left her lips before she could stop it.

“Luna.”

Luna’s name caused a swift reaction from Blaise. He reached for Ginny, eyebrows furrowing and lips pulling back.

“You’ve spoken to her, then?” he inquired. “Or you’ve remembered something?”

She’d remembered some things about Luna but nothing that helped calm her concern for her friend. The memory in the garden, of Luna braiding her hair as they watched the children play, was a warm and happy moment in time. And her memory from before, of the dinner at Draco’s old house, of Blaise being sour over Rolf leaving… perhaps there was something there. Ginny stared up at Blaise, unsure of what she wanted to ask him. 

“Is she still with Rolf?”

The question came from nowhere. Even as she asked it, Ginny’s face tugged into a frown. Blaise narrowed his eyes at her.

“Of course,” Blaise replied. “Why would you ever think she wasn’t?”

Ginny shrugged, uneasy. There was no reason to think Luna wasn’t with Rolf, especially since she knew Orion had been writing their twin sons the past few days. How odd. 

“Sorry, I—”

“Uncle Blaise!” Orion ran into the library, squirming his way in between the adults. “Can I show you the potions I’ve made yet?”

Their solitude was disturbed. Ginny shook her head, looking away from Blaise. Blaise looked down at Orion, his face clearing of any confusion, lighting up with a well-rehearsed smirk.

“Well, what did you make?” Blaise asked. 

“Dad said it wasn’t a real potion,” Orion began, taking Blaise by the hand to lead him out of the library. “But I added some extra ingredients when he wasn’t looking—”

The duo exited the library and Ginny stared after them, curious over the direction of her thoughts. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Dinner hadn’t been as horrible an event as Ginny had assumed it would be. Sure, her face had become hot anytime Draco so much as glanced at her. Ginny had also accidently hit Yolly the house-elf when Draco teased her about her snoring habits, knocking over a plate of desserts in the house-elf’s hands. And she had elbowed Lyra’s glass of pumpkin juice, spilling it all over the poor girl’s dress, when she had caught Draco tracing his lips with his thumb while lost in thought.

But it could have been worse…

Okay, maybe it hadn’t gone so well.

Blaise, however, had kept the children’s attention with stories of Draco from Hogwarts, which they had all begged for as soon as the family sat at the table for dinner. Clearly it was a tradition of Blaise’s and the children lived for it. They had been barely contained in their seats, laughing so hard that Orion had started to cry, as Blaise mocked Draco, adding a particular snooty tone that Ginny couldn’t deny sounded true to Draco as a child. While her husband had allowed the teasing to continue for a while, she could tell by the tightness of his lips that he wasn’t extremely happy being poked at. 

Finally, when dinner was done and Ginny felt she could breathe properly again, Draco enlisted the kids to take all their dishes to the kitchen to help Yolly clean up. When Draco followed them into the other room, Ginny could hear Yolly’s muffled protests. Blaise turned to her as soon as they were left alone at the table. Freezing at his intense look, Ginny knew immediately that he was about to bring up Luna again. Ginny wasn’t sure she was ready to talk about her friend, not when Draco and the children were in the next room, but before she could try to shut Blaise up he was already speaking.

“What was _that_?” he exclaimed, leaning across the table so his words weren’t heard by anyone unwanted.

“What?” Ginny snapped back, nerves frayed. 

The smirk on Blaise’s face grew rapidly, like a fire had ignited in him. Ginny glared back in response. She recognized the look on his face from when she had teased Draco at the Ministry ball. Blaise had been overjoyed at his friend’s discomfort. And, this time, it seemed he found something to mock her over.

“Spilling juice on poor Lyra? Hitting a tray out of Yolly’s hands?” He was beginning to snicker, holding onto his sides as words failed him. “I mean, bloody hell, Ginny, I’ve never seen you so- so red before. I just, really, this is too much. An early Christmas present, perhaps?”

Blaise was laughing so hard, like the children had been moments ago, that he had to rest his head on the table. Ginny’s cheeks were beginning to burn again, though this time it had nothing to do with her husband and more to do with his annoying best mate. She growled, throwing her napkin at him in hopes to quiet him. When the dirty linen landed on his head, he looked up. There were tears lingering in his eyes. One fell down his dark skin and he wiped it away, sniffing loudly.

“Shut. Up,” Ginny hissed.

If the children were to leave the kitchen, if _Draco_ was to leave the kitchen, there was no way to hide what was happening. Blaise was literally in tears. 

“I’ve never seen you like this, Weasley,” Blaise continued. “What, exactly, has changed in the past two days?”

Ginny huffed, trying to compose herself. When she looked away from him, unwilling to talk, Blaise began to quiet. They could hear the children, Draco, and Yolly in the kitchen. After a moment, Blaise cleared his throat. She glanced back at him and saw that he was wiping his face again. He was much calmer now but his lips were still stretched in a Cheshire grin.

“Tell me,” he implored, though there was laughter in those two words.

She was going to remain stubbornly quiet till fear that he’d bring it up to Draco hit her. After all, she wasn’t quite sure who Blaise was more loyal to. But, while she tried to sort her thoughts, she found Blaise didn’t need much to go on.

“You fancy him, don’t you?” her handsome friend asked.

His words forced her eyes to meet his. The humor had left Blaise and he was left examining her reaction. What did she have left to lose? Blaise was her friend, she knew that, and he obviously knew something was going on. If he knew, that meant Draco knew. Ginny groaned, dropping her head in her hands. She peered between her fingers at Blaise, who was waiting impatiently for a response.

“Yes,” she muttered. “A bit.”

Blaise didn’t laugh like she thought he would. Instead he rested his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, and stared at her.

“How did he manage to get you to this point twice?” Blaise wondered out loud. Then he smiled, a small, sad smile that looked wrong on his face. “I’m happy to hear it though. I’m sure it’s not easy for you, just like the first time.”

He tapped the table with his free hand.

“He kissed you, didn’t he?” Blaise questioned.

Ginny lowered her hands from her face. 

“Yeah,” she answered slowly. “How did you know?”

Blaise shrugged inelegantly but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“History tends to repeat itself,” he told her. 

Rolling her eyes, Ginny folded her hands in her lap. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to be having right now. Blaise stood from his seat abruptly, startling Ginny. She watched as he went around the table and took the seat next to her. He blew a piece of hair out of her face and she scrunched her nose at him.

“What are you doing—”

“What are you so worried over?” Blaise cut in, eyes dancing around her face. “You seem worried. Is that what makes you so clumsy? Fear? You’re afraid of what he might think?”

She opened her mouth then closed it.

“Tell me,” he insisted, reaching out and prodding her with a finger. 

First she had opened up to Pansy earlier in the day about her fears of Draco cheating and now… now she was searching for the reason why she was worried about liking Draco, at Blaise’s insistence. Ginny inhaled sharply then released the breath slowly.

“I don’t _want_ to like him,” she whispered.

Blaise’s lips twitched into a frown before he sighed.

“Yes, well, no one _wants_ to like Draco,” he responded lightly. “But he has this annoying habit of burrowing himself in one’s skin like a parasite. No escaping it, I’m afraid. And you… well, you’ve always been very susceptible to his charms.”

When she went to speak, he put a finger to her lips to silence her. Her eyes narrowed at his touch.

“Don’t let what I’m saying lead you to any conclusion other than that he’s been enamored by you for almost two decades now. You’re just lucky that you’re both helplessly smitten by the other person. It doesn’t always work that way.”

But, maybe, the issue wasn’t that she didn’t want to like Draco but, rather, that she found she couldn’t help herself from liking him. Draco had shown her many of his true colors over the past few days and she hadn’t been repulsed by him, or angry, or saddened. Ginny found herself falling further into this state of captivation as each moment in his presence passed. He was not an easy man to know and there was a darkness to him but it didn’t deter her, not at all.

When she looked up at Blaise through her eyelashes, there was a relaxed grin on his face. He dropped his finger from her lips.

“You really mustn’t let your fear stop you from doing what you want to do,” he muttered.

The sound of someone approaching quieted the pair. Ginny looked over to see that Draco had entered the dining room again. He ran a hand through his hair before tossing a glance over his shoulder.

“Your presence is requested, Zabini, by three young children who find you much more entertaining than me,” he informed them. “In the library.”

Blaise stood gracefully, not looking at Ginny as he left the room. When Draco met her eyes, his light eyebrows rose.

“Everything okay?” Draco asked softly.

She nodded.

“Yeah, of course,” she answered quickly, almost stumbling over her words.

He mimicked her nod before giving her a small smirk.

“I’ll meet you in the library, then,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for a few owls throughout the day; I want to make sure they’re not outside my study.”

When she didn’t respond right away, Draco turned to leave. She watched him retreat in silence. Ginny found it hard to move from her spot. Every emotion she had felt over the past few days had been sudden and quick, usually overwhelming, threatening to drown her if she didn’t find something to latch onto. And, each time, she had found a savior in her husband. Her husband, who days ago she had barely known and hardly trusted. 

Draco hadn’t even seemed bothered half the time by her oddities. When he should have looked at her like she was a loon, his gaze ended up being adoring. And, when she fought against the opportunity to discover what had gone wrong in their marriage, Draco hadn’t forced any undesired knowledge on her. 

Even if he didn’t know she knew about the divorce papers. Which were currently missing. 

Ginny focused on the world around her, a nervous energy creeping over her that left her jumpier than she had been all day. Rushing from the dining room, Ginny headed in the opposite direction of the library. The door to Draco’s study opened as she approached, inviting her in, and clicked shut silently behind her. Draco was standing by the fireplace, staring into the flames, and looked up at her entrance.

“Gin.”

Her name was coated in surprise, quiet as a breath. As suddenly as the anxiety had hit her, it left her. Ginny approached slowly and his eyes followed each step.

Draco had gone into her office just yesterday. And now the divorce papers were gone. If he didn’t know she had already seen them, if he thought there was a chance she’d discover them this late in the game, if he had been worried, would he have taken them? Thrown them in the fire? Hidden them far from her view? To shelter her or to… to wait and see what would happen if she didn’t discover that there was a previous crack in the foundation of their marriage?

Running a hand through his hair, Draco walked away from the fireplace and took a seat behind his desk. He began moving pieces of parchment around, avoiding her eyes. When she was close enough to touch the desk, she let out a low sigh. What was the point of fighting this anymore? He had signed the papers, yes, but he must regret it now if he hid them from her. And she might’ve been angry with him for years about a multitude of things, sure, but she wasn’t angry with him now. If anything, her feelings for him were spiraling out of control, fighting for power, struggling to be dominant.

She liked him. And she wanted to kiss him. The idea that he wouldn’t touch her again like had last night… it wasn’t acceptable. 

His eyes lifted to meet hers when she didn’t move.

“Ginny,” he all but groaned. “Is this about last night? Are you upset? Is that why you’ve been so odd all day?”

Upset? A laugh threatened to spill from her lips but she kept them clamped shut. She was upset, yes, most definitely, but only because she couldn’t get him off her mind now. After everything that had happened today, after what had happened last night… 

“I won’t say sorry,” Draco told her sharply, her silence an unsatisfactory answer to his questions. “But I do wish you’d speak to me about what’s bothering you.”

He wouldn’t say sorry for what he had done the night before? Draco wouldn’t apologize for the thoughts that now plagued her because of his actions? Fine. Then she wouldn’t be sorry either.

Without a second thought, Ginny moved around the desk completely and turned Draco’s chair so he faced her. He looked up at her, startled, but an emotion flitted across his face, as if he knew what she was about to do before she did it. Ginny wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Her heart was racing but not from nerves. It was from anticipation. 

As she was reaching for him, climbing into the chair so she was straddling him, his hands were already moving towards her. She lowered her lips to meet his and was surprised to find his hands pulling her forward, closer to him. Letting out a soft breath against his lips, Ginny hesitated only a moment. Draco stared up at her, heavy lidded, and any caution that had presented itself disappeared. Then she closed the  
distance between them, capturing his lips with her own. She barely held back a moan when he tugged her closer.

The relief that he hadn’t pushed her away hit her hard.

Ginny collapsed in his lap, bringing herself closer to Draco than she had ever been before. Her hands ran the unfamiliar trail of his arms, gripping his muscles that she could feel through his shirt. He had a solid hold on her, as if he would never let her go, and she relaxed at that idea. His lips were hot and demanding as she pressed herself against him. Her tongue darted out, tracing his bottom lip, wanting to taste more of Draco.

He groaned, his grasp on her thighs tightening. Then he released her, tugging at her shirt to loosen it enough so that his hands could properly explore the territory underneath. She shivered when he touched the bare skin of her stomach, goosebumps rising on her skin. It wasn’t fair, really, that he knew just where to touch her to draw a reaction from her. But she wasn’t complaining. Ginny’s breath hitched when he shifted her in his lap. It gave him better access to her neck, to her lips, but the heat between them was new. There was an ache between her legs, hot and sudden and wanting. 

She was becoming loose beneath his fingertips and she struggled for control but every time he touched her somewhere new, kissed a different part of her skin, her resolve disappeared. One hand cupped her breast, a finger grazing her nipple, while the other traced the line of her spine. A moan left her mouth that sounded both breathless and hungry. If she had any capability of clear thought she’d realize how rapidly she was unraveling at his touch. But Ginny couldn’t think, could hardly catch her breath, as she met Draco for another kiss.

It was as she tilted his head back, hand wrapped in his soft, blonde hair, that he finally spoke.

“Tell me you want me, Ginny.”

She stilled, her lips a breath away from the sensitive skin of his neck. There was a note of _something_ in his words, something she couldn’t place that made heat flood her. Desperation? Longing? Dread? Ginny rolled her hips as one of his hands danced along her back and a low groan clawed its way from deep in his throat. Lowering her lips, she placed a kiss on his neck, then his jaw, then another below his ear. 

It wasn’t hard for her to admit she wanted him, so much, as she straddled him in the chair. She wanted her kisses to leave him gasping, aching, eager for more. She wanted his lips on her, anywhere, everywhere, teasing and biting and kissing. But the thought of declaring that out loud, to him, made her hesitate. Even as his breathing caught in his throat when she pressed another kiss to his neck, as his grip on her tightened when she sighed softly, as his hips jolted when she leaned into him. She had only just admitted it to herself.

_Tell him,_ a voice in her head softly prodded and it was _her_ voice. The gentle persuasion, along with his hooded gaze when she finally met his eyes, was enough to pull the words from her. She leaned down to place another kiss on his jaw.

“I want you, Draco,” she murmured against his skin. “So very badly.”

Ginny’s body flushed as the words spilled from her lips. It was as though she had confessed a sin and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was how she had felt the first time she had acknowledged her desire for him. Leaning back in order to see him, Ginny stared at Draco with abated breath.

And her words did something to him.

The gray of his eyes became cloudy and one corner of his lips twisted upwards. It made him look cutting, severe, as if he could devour her easily. A trill raced through her at the idea. She breathed out as he leaned in, pressing a harsh kiss to her lips, one hand wrapping itself in her hair as the other tugged at her pants. A growl escaped her as she began pulling at his shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin. It was hardly fair that his hands roamed her body when she had hardly touched him yet—

“Oh, bloody hell.”

They froze, their eyes meeting before looking towards the study doorway. Blaise stood there, nose wrinkled.

“I’m not your paid housekeep. You do know that, right?” Blaise asked.

“Get out of here, Zabini!” Draco snapped.

Ginny was so close to Draco, her body molded against his, that his words vibrated within her. Catching her breath, she looked back towards her husband. His cheeks were flushed, his lips tender, his hair mussed. Something constricted inside of her and she found her grip on Draco’s shirt tightening. Blaise could take the kids, they could spend the night at his house, she just needed some time alone with Draco. Ginny just wanted to explore him, to find out what his lips felt like on her body, to see what else he could unravel inside of her with his touch. She glanced back at Blaise briefly.

“I’m not your babysitter,” Blaise reminded them, though he sounded amused. “And I’m not taking the children with me, so don’t look at me like that, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Ginny started at what Blaise said. And, unexpectedly, she let out a giggle. She clamped a hand over her mouth in surprise and looked towards her husband again. His eyebrows perked at her and his eyes cleared. Gently, he pushed her off his lap. Her legs were wobbly when she stood and she took a second to straighten her clothes out, noting that Draco did the same. 

“Finally,” Blaise said. “Good job tidying up, there. I’m happy to note that you two are getting along well—”

“Can you get out of here?” Draco drawled, eyes darting to his friend then back to Ginny.

Blaise shook his head.

“I’m afraid to leave you two alone for even a second,” he proclaimed. “You’ll likely lock the door and not come out till the new year. I can’t risk it. I’ve a life too, you realize. I can’t handle your three rascals all on my own—”

“Got it, Blaise, thanks,” Ginny interrupted, walking away from Draco and towards Blaise.

She could feel Draco’s stare on her, though, and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself. When she passed Blaise, she reached out to pat him on the chest.

“Thank you for the advice,” she whispered, her lips curling in a smile.

Blaise bit back a smirk as he eyed her. Then he winked and turned to follow her.

“That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?” he responded lightly.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

The children insisted that Blaise and Draco put them to bed when the time for sleep came, leaving Ginny by herself in the library. She felt better, in an unexplainable way. Her frayed nerves were gone and her mind was clear. No longer were random emotions pulling her this way and that way. Ginny was content, as if she had finally found her place in life.

And, just maybe, she had.

This could be her life, her home, with Draco. Whatever had happened before between them they could forget about. Start new. Ginny could start flying again if she wanted to or, perhaps, she could find a true passion in journalism like she had before. And she’d make a point to see Draco more when he was away at work. Or they’d figure out a better schedule, if that had been the issue. If it had been something else, that they had put each other too high on a pedestal, they could talk about it. Fix it. Heal the wounds. Rebuild the foundation.

This could work.

A familiar tapping on the window pane distracted Ginny. She looked up to see Draco’s angry owl glaring at her from the outside. Rushing to the window, she cracked it open enough for the owl to slide in. It did the same flight throughout the library before landing on a chair, its’ leg sticking out automatically. An envelope was attached to it. 

Luna had written her back.

Ginny ran to the owl, forgoing the treats in favor of getting the letter. With several flaps of its’ wings, the owl expressed its displeasure. But Ginny needed to get the message, needed to hide it or read it before Blaise and Draco made a reappearance. She didn’t hear anyone coming down the stairs, though, and figured she had enough time to open the wax seal and try to read whatever Luna had written to her.

With her back to the entrance of the library, Ginny ran her finger along the envelope, cracking the seal. Then she unfolded the parchment that was inside. She recognized her friend’s loopy handwriting instantly and her knees grew weak, whether from relief at the realization that Luna was okay or from stress at what the letter contained, she wasn’t sure.

Her eyes darted over the parchment hastily.

_Ginny,_

_I was never told about your accident and I wish I had known sooner. Meet me by the trees tomorrow, at noon._

_Luna_

Ginny stared at the short message before turning the parchment over in her hands. There was nothing else written. Just the two sentences. Meet her by the trees? Where was that? Folding the parchment back up, Ginny placed it back in the envelope before walking into her study. Luna’s response didn’t quench any of the thirst for answers Ginny had. If anything, it left her more displeased than before the letter had arrived. 

Opening one of the photo albums, Ginny placed the letter in between the pages. If Draco were to snoop through her things, he’d never look there for Luna’s letter. At least, Ginny hoped he wouldn’t. Collapsing in her chair, she rubbed her forehead. 

The letter didn’t make sense. 

She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, and willed herself to remember something. The trees? What trees? Where was she meant to go— 

_“I suppose I’m not too surprised to find you here,” a soft voice cut through her thoughts._

_Ginny looked up, lifting her face from where she had been hiding it in her arms, and saw Blaise saunter towards her. He looked at her, his expression dark, before taking a seat beside her on the ground. Beneath them, the grass was damp with dew. His face scrunched up momentarily before he relaxed. When he let out a long breath beside her, she leaned into him._

_Together, backs leaning against a tree, they stared out at the field. She never came here anymore; it had been years now. Maybe not that long, actually, but it certainly felt like it. It reminded her of Draco, of slow kisses and laughter, of how eager they had been in the beginning to heal each other, to learn each other, to please each other. Ginny hated to mar it with a bad memory but she couldn’t help it. This was the first place she thought of coming to at the end of the day._

_Blaise glanced at her through the corner of his eyes. She really wished he didn’t know her so well, that he wasn’t such a large part of her and Draco’s lives, that he wasn’t privy to every event that happened in the Malfoy household. It would make sulking a lot easier._

_“He forgot, then?” Blaise murmured after a moment of staring at her._

_She looked up at him before shrugging._

_“Yes, I suppose,” she said back weakly. “How’d you know I was here?”_

_Blaise nudged her with his elbow when her eyes left his but she found it hard to hold his gaze._

_“Luna told me I’d likely find you here,” he informed her before pausing. “She was rather insistent that I get to you since she couldn’t.”_

_Ginny smiled but it felt feeble and wrong. Of course, Blaise would owl Luna to find out her whereabouts. Luna, who wouldn’t be able to come comfort her as she was home with her children and husband._

_“Did he realize I had left?” Ginny asked._

_Crickets chirping in the grass distracted the duo for some time as Blaise thought over his answer. Ginny knew Blaise, knew that he didn’t want to say anything she could use against Draco in their inevitable fight. He was constantly torn between her and Draco recently, watching from the sidelines as they drove each other mad. She liked to think, however, that this was an especially low blow, even for her husband._

_And she had a feeling Blaise agreed with her. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stepped into this battle. He would’ve never met her out here, by the trees._

_She leaned back against the bark and waited for his response._

_“He didn’t realize—” he began but she let out a bark of laughter._

_“It’s our anniversary, Blaise,” Ginny said._

_“Yes, but, you know how work has been—”_

_“Bloody hell, you sound just like him,” she interrupted, sighing. “Is that the excuse he gave you? That all day, while I ran around the house with the children and he stayed holed up in his fucking study, he didn’t know it was our wedding anniversary? I don’t expect much from him, truly, but… he’s never forgotten before.”_

_Anything Blaise had to say in defense of her husband was abandoned. Instead, he looped his arm through hers and tugged her a little closer so they could share warmth._

_“It’s lovely out here, isn’t it?” he mumbled._

_Her eyes drifted from the tree line that surrounded the meadow, trees hundreds of years old and just alive with magic, to the high grass of the field, dancing in the breeze, to the heavens that seemed never ending, stars twinkling down at her._

_“Yes,” she whispered, swallowing back tears. “Yes, I suppose it is.”_

“Ginny?”

She jumped when she focused on the world around her. Draco was crouched beside her, eyebrows furrowed, and Blaise stood directly behind him, half bent as he too stared at her. Taking a deep breath, Ginny looked around. Not in a meadow, not by any trees… she was still in her study. Ginny couldn’t speak as the memory she relived drifted away from her, replaced with reality. Beneath her fingers, she could feel the soft leather of the chair, she could feel Draco’s warm breath on her face as he watched her, she could feel her heart beating in her chest.

“Sorry,” Ginny finally managed. “I… lost myself there, for a moment.”

Blaise nodded slowly, though she knew he was more concerned than he was letting on. Draco, however, must’ve recognized what had happened to her for what it was. He reached out and grabbed her left hand, turning it over in his grasp. She shivered at the contact but found her eyes drawn to his fingers as they traced the lines on her palm. Then his eyes flickered back to hers and the tension left her.

“I should leave, then,” Blaise said slowly, looking between Draco and Ginny. “I’ll come over early tomorrow, to help make sure you’re prepared for the dinner… If you need anything, owl, of course.”

Draco didn’t bother turning to say goodbye but Ginny flashed Blaise a tiny smile as way of parting. The memory of him, finding her in the field, warmed her. She already knew they were friends but the flash of him, sitting next to her in the dewy grass, proved it. Turning her attention back to Draco, she sighed.

“Bed?” he asked simply, voice low, soft, as if afraid of frightening her.

Ginny shook her head, fingers curling over his hand.

“I’d like to stay up,” she muttered. “For just a bit.”

He didn’t question her. Instead, with a gentle pull, he helped her out of her seat. Together, they left her study and entered the library. Draco led her to a couch that the children usually occupied. As soon as she sat, he lowered himself beside her. 

“Just relax, Gin,” he murmured.

His hands guided her back to his chest and, together, they laid down on the couch. The weight of his arm draped over her waist, stopping her from falling off the couch, keeping her close to him, was comforting. And the familiar smell of mint that engulfed her anytime she was close to Draco made her eyes flutter shut. Draco didn’t speak, though his fingers moved lightly across her arm, tracing an invisible map, and her breathing evened out.

The trees. She knew where they were. Luna wanted to meet her by them tomorrow and, maybe then, she’d figure everything out. Ginny could fix whatever had happened between her and Draco, she could forgive his neglect, he could forgive her for whenever she had wronged him, maybe they could be okay, maybe it would all work out…

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Every review makes me so happy. Also any mistakes in this chapter are my own, as my beta could only edit some of the story. Hopefully soon Maya-nii will be able to look over all of it and make it brilliant again with her magic but, till then, this is the best I can do. But what Maya-nii was able to edit is pure gold.


	9. Day Seven, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks for reading :) So normally my chapters have been reviewed by my beta, Maya-nii, but she was only able to edit a portion of this chapter. The rest is all me. So if there are any obvious mistakes I apologize! Enjoy.

_“Look, Malfoy, if you really want something then you’ve got to take it,” Ginny told him as she peered out at the Quidditch pitch._

_She caught him rolling his eyes but before she could call him out for it — he always liked to pretend that he was above rolling his eyes — the Chaser for Puddlemere United flew past, Quaffle in hand. The stands erupted into a chorus of cheers when the Chaser maneuvered past the Keeper and shot the Quaffle through the hoops. Ginny bounced on the balls of her feet, shouting along with the crowd._

_For the past couple of months, she had had the same conversation with Malfoy. They had been poring over the legislation that Harry was to propose to the Ministry, in hopes of gaining clearance and funds to reconstruct Azkaban, but Draco had seemed hesitant. She wasn’t sure if it was about dealing with the public and Ministry as a whole or that Draco felt he wasn’t capable of taking on the task. It was an issue they had continuously glossed over and Ginny wasn’t sure when he was going to be the annoying prat she remembered from school and take what he wanted — regardless of what anyone else said._

_Harry, on the other hand, was reluctant to take the project seriously unless he felt confident with the people behind the actual reconstruction process, which was where Malfoy was supposed to step in. Despite the legendary bad blood between Harry and Draco, the pair had been willing to consider Luna and Ginny’s plan for Azkaban as they both had ties to the prison. Ginny didn’t think that neither she nor Luna would have achieved anything, having thought of the idea on a whim — with encouragement from exhausted new mother, Hermione. But they had. They simply had to get Malfoy on the same page as everyone else._

_After several failed meetings, and with Luna’s regular travels, Ginny had finally suggested that they venture to a Quidditch game instead of constantly spending time and money at restaurants. Quidditch was surely more fun, and it was a sport both she and Draco enjoyed. Eventually, their meetings became less awkward and Ginny had gradually enjoyed her time with the git. Besides, she felt immense relief to not be playing on the field._

_“I thought you’d agreed to call me Draco.”_

_Ginny shot him a grin. The crowd swayed around them as the players zoomed by on their brooms._

_Bloody hell, there were times when she had actually viewed Draco as a friend. The majority of her family was still sore over her breakup from Harry even though nearly two months had passed. With Luna often away on work trips, discovering new species in the wild with her new husband, Rolf, and Neville teaching Herbology at Hogwarts, she was bored. Draco’s company was a welcome distraction._

_There had been more than one occasion when she had spotted him out in public and had been excited to see him. Sure, she had also been merciless in teasing him each time but he rarely seemed bothered by her presence. And their meetings, while pointless, had always been entertaining. He was hardly the boy she remembered from school, which was both good and bad. Good, because she enjoyed his company. But it was bad as it seemed that he had lost his confidence during the war._

_Right now, Ginny needed him to regain the infamous Malfoy conviction. If there was any chance of her helping Harry, and Malfoy, get the bills passed, they were dependent on Draco to acting more like his former self._

_“Fine, Dra_ -co, _” Ginny enunciated, smirking._

_He looked down at her, amusement evident on his features. The man next to her reeked of butterbeer and firewhiskey. She scrunched her nose and leaned closer to Draco before continuing._

_“Let the prat inside you out and take what you bloody want. Do what you have to do, you’re just as capable as anyone—”_

_Her words died in her throat when he grabbed her arm. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, for Draco only ever touched her when absolutely necessary. Quite literally, Ginny could count on one hand the number of times Draco had purposefully initiated physical contact. Once, to slap her hand away from paying the bill after a meeting. Another, when her forehead had been stung by a bee and he had forced her hands away from the wound to inspect it while continuing to insult her. She had also tripped while raving about an upcoming broom model and he had deftly grabbed the back of her shirt before she fell onto her knees, picking her up and placing her on her feet like nothing had happened. Then, she had instinctively reached a hand to fix a stray lock of his hair and he grabbed her wrist to stop her._

_Ginny had simply accepted that Draco disliked anything involving touch._

_However, now, his grip on her was firm, unmoving. Staring up at him, Ginny noted how deep his frown was, how stormy his eyes were. Bright pink tinted his cheeks. Ginny fidgeted, wondering if she had stepped out of line._

_“Look, I just… want you to know, I don’t think you’re the same person you were during the war, all right?”_

_She had been meaning to tell him so because it was true. Between him insulting her at their first meeting to him actually agreeing with a point she made to Luna to him buying her a new set of Quidditch gloves she talked his ear off about, she had realized that Malfoy was entirely different now._

_He tilted his head at her words, expression blank, but eyes hawk-like._

_Before she could process anything, Draco Malfoy was bending down to kiss her. Surprisingly, his lips were pleasant and warm, not frosty and bitter like she had assumed. Not that she would ever admit to thinking about what Malfoy’s lips would feel like on hers._

_And… Ginny found herself leaning into him, her hand grabbing onto his arm. But the crowd swayed again, roars of approval filling the air, and they were forced to part._

_Unwittingly, her cheeks warmed. She felt the heat creep down her neck and Draco’s eyes followed the trail, painstakingly slow, before lifting back up to meet her gaze. Ginny found herself fighting a smile when their eyes met again. The crowd was distracted by the game. But Ginny found herself not following suit, instead captivated by the man before her._

_Why was she not disgusted? Was the feeling of nausea going to hit later? Should she hurry for the loo soon?_

_On the other hand, Draco had never looked so… vulnerable. It was clear that he was alarmed by what he had done. His right hand loosely gripped her arm, and her skin tingled from the contact._

_“Okay, then,” she muttered._

_He regarded her for a moment before the corner of his lips curled up._

_“Okay, then?” he echoed. “Hell, Weasley, I know you haven’t had a better kiss in your life. Show some appreciation, why don’t you.”_

_She laughed and elbowed him, turning her attention back to the game._

_“There’s the prat I remember.”_

_Ginny spied his smirk widening from her peripheral vision as he, too, resumed watching the game. Even from her spot in the audience, Ginny saw the glint of the golden Snitch as it suddenly materialized. She leaned forward, eyes trained on the glittering gold, and could feel Draco inch forward too — he had also glimpsed the Snitch. Of course, neither of the actual Seekers had seen it yet. The sun glinted off the gold, and Ginny squinted._

_And — suddenly, she had trouble breathing. The crowd around her vanished, their excited cheers and chants abruptly muted. Ginny clutched at her sides as she sat on her bedroom floor, unable to subdue her laughter. In front of her, legs languidly outstretched and back pressed against her bed, was Draco._

_It was the last thing she had ever expected to see. Draco Malfoy was at the Burrow, sitting in Ginny’s childhood bedroom and playing with her pet kitten. Witherwings seemed overly attached to Draco — had been as soon as he had met him — though Ginny knew it was because the kitten hadn’t had much company during the past few weeks._

_After she had broken up with Harry, Ginny moved her belongings into the Burrow, intending to stay until she sorted everything out. Her parents had been more than receptive despite being displeased about the breakup. It felt odd to be back in her childhood home, with someone she had once viewed an enemy. She had cried in this bedroom, dreamt about her future here, worried about her loved ones…_

_Draco swatted at the kitten but Witherwings hardly minded. He merely jumped onto Draco’s lap, causing Ginny to burst into another fit of giggles. Draco shot her an annoyed look._

_“Will you do something about this devil?” he asked._

_Ginny wiped at her eyes and reached over to take Witherwings. Prior to the breakup, she had adopted Witherwings from a Muggle shelter. It had been her remedy for the long nights when she was left alone when Harry was off at work. And while Witherwings’ presence helped immensely, she somewhat regretted letting Harry name the cat. Now, Witherwings reminded her of everything that had gone wrong between her and Harry._

_“I told you not to bother coming over,” Ginny pointed out, crossing her legs so that Witherwings could lounge on her lap._

_Draco shrugged, relaxing now that Witherwings was out of his hair._

_It was surreal, really, talking to Draco casually here. He seemed strangely comfortable in her bedroom. And Ginny could see that Draco was enjoying himself for some reason. He didn’t shift into the arrogant and stiff person that typically appeared during undesirable situations. However, no one else was home, so tension was avoidable. Molly and Arthur had left to visit Bill, Fleur, and the children. Ginny had claimed to be ill, which was sort of true. Honestly, she just didn’t feel like leaving the house._

_“You told me you were unwell.”_

_“I am,” she responded cheekily, flashing him a grin._

_An eyebrow rose on his pale face._

_“Yes, I can see that,” he remarked dryly._

_The kitten purred in her lap and Ginny rubbed his ears contently. She bit her lip as she turned her attention to Draco, who had grabbed an old magazine off her desk and was flipping through it._

_“So… nothing?” Ginny heard herself asking. “No nasty remark? No insult? Nothing about the state of my room? Or the house?”_

_Draco looked up at her, his eyes narrowed. She hadn’t realized she had been waiting for him to insult her home._

_“It’s all very… pink…” he intoned slowly._

_She giggled and nodded. Her room was very pink. And messy. Scattered around were several boxes that she had yet to unpack, because Ginny insisted she was going to get a flat to herself soon even though she had been contently living at the Burrow for several months now. Beyond the cardboard towers were her bright pink walls where Quidditch posters hung, the players darting around lazily, too old to care. Tattered school books were piled on the floor by her white desk, which had several chunks of wood missing. A pair of muddy shoes blocked the entrance to her tiny closet._

_Ginny grimaced at what he probably really thought of her room._

_“Why are you here, Malfoy?” Ginny asked softly, after a moment of silence._

_Alarm flashed across his features before he shrugged hesitantly._

_“I figured you were avoiding me,” Draco informed her. “Then I realized that you’re supposed to be a brave Gryffindor. And if I managed to scare a Weasley into hiding, I’ve done something right in the world.”_

_He paused._

_“Are you avoiding me?”_

_Ginny opened her mouth to respond then stopped. Had she been avoiding him? No, Ginny didn’t avoid people, especially not Draco Malfoy…_

_Ugh, yes, she had been._

_Ever since Ginny had realized she rather liked mornings spent in between Draco’s silk sheets, playing with his hair until he was irritated enough to wake up and pay attention, she had taken to dodging contact with him. When she realized she liked the way words rolled off his tongue, slicing her down to the bone… When she realized she liked him and everything that came with, all the bad things, and particularly the good things..._

_Ginny Weasley liked Draco Malfoy. And she had begun to want more for their relationship than wonderful, mind-blowing secret shags. It was terrifying. So, she had hidden at the Burrow, claiming to be sick. And he had come to find her._

_When Ginny met his gaze, she readied herself. But her surroundings shifted, the pink room blurring before darkening. The silence stretched on, much tenser, almost unbearable, and Ginny tried to breathe. She couldn’t hold his stare, felt herself breaking under the weight of his accusations, and she looked away. Normally, the familiarity of the library — every chair, every book, the shelf where Orion had hurt his head a few months ago, the window that Gray opened no matter the season — calmed her._

_But not now._

_Her grip on the papers loosened and she flung them at him as though burned. The parchment pieces fluttered to the ground, landing in a circle around his feet, yet Draco made no move to pick them up._

_“Stay, then,” she ordered, though her voice cracked._

_Ginny bit on her lip to keep it from trembling._

_“Prove to me that you care. Don’t go to the States. Stay here… with me.”_

_She hated how desperate she sounded, but Ginny couldn’t help it. If he left — if he walked away after signing the papers — how could they fix it?_

_The tension was palpable between them, leaving her thoughts to run rampant._

_Perhaps it was inevitable. Maybe Ginny had been prolonging the situation, turning her cheek from the challenges they faced, pretending nothing was wrong. It could be for the best. Yes, it made sense, but it still felt so wrong, because she was supposed to be happy with Draco forever. The children… What were they supposed to tell the children if they didn’t find a solution? Was there a chance, even now, that the children witnessed their parents’ argument?_

_The thought of their kids overhearing their conversation made her stomach twist and she glanced uneasily towards the dark corridor outside the library._

_“The world doesn’t revolve around you and what you deem important, Ginny,” Draco drawled, bringing her attention back to him. “I cannot stay.”_

_She could barely hold back a frustrated cry, because maybe it was her fault and she had made her bed, and now she would have to lay in it. The idea didn’t stop her from tugging her wedding ring off. Ginny’s fingers brushed against the sapphire gem before she chucked it accurately at Draco’s head. He snatched the ring from the air before it could graze him, and, in any other fight, her antics would ease the tension, he would smirk and inform her that her Chaser skills were lacking, that he had yet to lose his Seeker ability, and she would laugh begrudgingly; but not tonight, no—_

A warm hand pressed into her back, gently, and Ginny stirred. Her stomach was in knots and she took a shuddering breath to calm her racing heart. The memory shook her to her very core — an unfriendly reminder that Draco had signed the divorce papers. He didn’t care about her, about their marriage; he was done with her, he had left. 

The mere realization made her feel nauseous. 

But the soft pressure on her back pulled her ahead. Ginny opened her eyes hesitantly. She was curled up against Draco, her head resting on his chest. Breathing in again, she allowed his scent to overtake her senses. And, inexplicably, she relaxed. 

“There you go,” he sleepily mumbled. 

Ginny glanced up at her husband through her eyelashes, surprised that he was awake. As if sensing her gaze, he tilted his head down, gray orbs meeting hers. 

“Bad dream?” Draco inquired. 

His hand soothingly rubbed her skin and the other emerged from under the blanket to trace her jawline. Ginny stared at him, entranced. How could that horrible memory possibly be real? It made no sense. Draco was here, now. He had left the States to return to her. Granted, she had been in a serious accident. 

Sighing, Ginny realized they were still on the couch in the library. At one point, Draco had conjured a blanket for them to snuggle under. The fire in the grate had long burned out and she noted the heavy clouds blanketing the sky through the large windows. When his hand urged her closer, Ginny didn’t fight against it. Her chest brushed his and she felt him inhale lightly. His eyes had fluttered shut again but she knew he was awake, waiting for her response. 

“A bit, yeah,” she whispered. “Did I wake you?” 

Draco lifted his shoulder in a shrug. 

Ginny shifted against Draco, allowing her hand to tentatively explore underneath the covers. She must have grabbed onto his shirt during the nightmare — or memory, rather — as both her hands were tangled in the cloth. Her cheeks flushed at the thought that she had been reaching for him in her sleep. Again. Carefully, her hands wandered along his arms. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel his firm muscles. When her hand traveled his chest, his heartbeat stilled her. Draco’s heartbeat was solid, comforting, and she wished she could put her ear against his chest to listen. 

Then she reached up, escaping the warmth of the blanket, and let her fingers travel along his long neck. When she encountered his Adam’s apple, he swallowed, and a smile graced her lips. Before she fully comprehended her situation, she was holding onto his shirt with one hand while her other wrapped itself around his neck. As she pulled herself closer, Draco looked down, always a step ahead, and his mouth met hers. His lips warmed her, sending a shock through her system, and any trace of sleepiness dissipated. 

Ginny hoisted herself further up so that she had easier access to Draco’s mouth. Bloody hell, she wasn’t sure anyone’s kisses had ever left her so intoxicated. She felt weak under Draco’s hot touch. The hand against her back had lowered, and now cupped her bottom. The other threaded through her hair. She could only imagine what she looked like, especially after sleeping on a couch, but she didn’t care. 

And, clearly, neither did Draco. 

He groaned when her teeth nipped his bottom lip. Hastily, he guided her mouth away from his. The loss of contact left her clinging to him, and his lips descended on her neck instead, kissing and licking the tender skin. Once he located her pulse, his mouth lingered around the area. She shivered and wondered if he could sense her increased heart rate, her hand locating a belt hoop. Her hands trembled at the thought of undressing Draco, right then and there. 

The children were asleep and likely would remain so. And she ached to explore him further—

A sharp knock froze Ginny’s motions. Draco paused, leaning back in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. Who could it be? When the knocks sounded again, brisker than before, Ginny stared at Draco. He let out a loud, long sigh. 

“Didn’t I tell you not to schedule the caterers this early?” 

Ginny frowned, curious as to how early it actually was. 

“Well, I didn’t realize when I took their first open slot that it would be—”

“Eight am?” Draco completed the sentence for her, after locating his pocket watch on the floor. 

He let out a curse as he tossed the blanket off of them. 

“Well, the children will likely be up now,” he informed her, not unkindly. 

Ginny scowled. She remembered specifically telling the catering company to not knock on the front door. Her children could sleep through anything, certainly, but once they thought there was company at the house they were all wide awake, too worried over missing out on anything. 

Her skin still tingled where Draco had caressed her and she felt rushed over having to get off the couch with him so soon. 

“I told them not to knock,” Ginny grumbled when he held out a hand to help her up. 

He pulled her to her feet before pausing. 

“You remember getting the caterers?” he asked, surprise coloring his words as he realized their conversation. 

Ginny blinked, stilling. She did remember. Lyra had been clinging to her legs as she filled out the proper paperwork before sending the letters off by owl. And, in the little box at the bottom asking about any specific instructions, Ginny could remember hastily writing to not knock on the front door, that she’d be ready for their arrival. Bloody hell. 

When she stared at Draco in shock at how easily the memory came to her, eyes wide, he reached up and touched her shoulder lightly. 

“It’s a good thing,” he said gently but there was something forced in his words. 

Was it really a good thing? Did he realize what she was remembering every night when she went to sleep? There was no way Draco understood how abruptly the memories could come back to her. Ginny knew, especially after the night before with Luna’s letter, that if she really started to push, she’d likely remember a lot more. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. 

And, as Draco attempted nonchalance, Ginny wasn’t sure he was ready for her memory to return either. 

“I’ll go let them in,” Draco managed to say just as the sound of footsteps upstairs echoed throughout the house. 

Ginny groaned, running a hand over her face. 

“The children are awake,” she complained, more to herself than Draco. 

She _had_ told them not to knock at the front door. But Ginny hadn’t been ready for the caterers like she promised either. Draco smirked and guided her towards the exit of the library. Looking down at herself, Ginny saw everything she wore was wrinkled. When she glanced at Draco, she was happy to note he looked rather disheveled also. He must’ve noticed her amusement for his eyebrows perked. 

“Pleased with yourself, Weasley?” he inquired as they entered the foyer. 

She laughed, knocking elbows with him. 

“It does wonders to my spirit to see you look so…”

“Well put together?” Draco supplied, one corner of his lips twisting upwards. 

Ginny snorted. 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I was going to say,” she teased. 

Draco ran a hand through his hair self-consciously but it didn’t help much. Half his hair was flattened to the side from sleeping on the couch and there were still marks on his face from the fabric. But he looked much better rested than the last few mornings. 

As Draco approached the front door, Ginny turned and saw two faces peering at them from the top of the staircase. 

“Who’s here, mummy?” Gray asked curiously. 

He sounded very awake for being roused from sleep so abruptly. Both children were still clad in their pajamas and they looked so innocent and young, waiting at the top of the staircase, that her stomach clenched. How was it possible that Draco and her created such wonderful, lovely children together? Who knew that when the Malfoy and Weasley linage finally met head-on, the result would be three children who held the universe in their eyes? 

Ginny smiled warmly up at the children. 

“Caterers, for the party tonight,” she told them softly. “You can go back to bed, really. Nothing exciting happening down here.” 

Before the last of the words left her mouth, though, Draco had pulled open the front door. And Ginny realized all hope of getting the children back to bed was lost. Several house-elves marched into the foyer, Christmas decorations bundled in their arms. Whatever they couldn’t carry drifted alongside them. Squeaks of _‘Happy Holidays’_ and _‘Merry Christmas’_ filled the foyer as each house-elf greeted Draco then Ginny before spying the two children and greeting them. 

When Ginny glanced back at Lyra and Gray, she saw their faces glowing with excitement. Looking back to the entrance, Draco offered her a shrug that was likely meant to be apologetic. 

Well, it looked like everyone except Orion was staying awake now. 

“What’s going on?” a new voice questioned loudly from the top of the stairs. “Oh! The party is tonight! It’s Christmas Eve! Wicked!” 

Or not. Orion ran down the stairs faster than Ginny was comfortable with, sliding to a stop next to her. She heard Lyra and Gray rush to follow their older brother but the arrival of another person distracted Ginny. It was Susan Bones. Ginny stared in surprise. It had been ages since she saw Susan last. Susan had been a part of Dumbledore’s Army and, when most of her family had been killed during Ginny’s fifth year, she had become more sympathetic to Harry’s plight. Bones and Harry had become rather close after the war, so Ginny had spent plenty of time with the woman, but the friendship had dwindled as they all moved on from the war. 

Susan smiled brightly at Draco, though the expression seemed more genuine when she spotted Ginny. The older woman ran up to her and reached out to grab her hands. 

“Happy Christmas, Ginny,” Susan greeted. Then she noticed the children and her gaze softened. “And Happy Christmas to you too, kids. Are you excited for the party tonight?” 

Lyra jumped up and down, reaching out to grab Susan’s arm, while Gray and Orion nodded enthusiastically. By this point, the house-elves had all scattered throughout the house. Ginny eyed Susan curiously as she talked to the children. To have Susan arrive at her house with a handful of house-elves wasn’t quite processing for her. What catering company had Ginny booked? And since when did a Weasley book a catering company? It seemed very… Malfoy of her. 

She played with the wedding band on her finger and focused on the conversation around her as the children all eagerly spoke to Susan. 

“What type of pies are you cooking?” 

“Are you going to decorate my room too?” 

“Can I help the house-elves cook?” Lyra asked sweetly. 

Susan clapped her hands together, laughing merrily at all the questions. She turned to Lyra first. 

“Well, yes, of course,” the woman responded eagerly. 

“Lyra, darling, it’d probably be best if you left them alone,” Ginny interrupted. 

Lyra’s stricken look silenced her and she grimaced. Draco slid up beside her, his hand resting on the small of her back. He leaned in close and his lips brushed the shell of her ear. 

“Don’t bother,” he murmured. “The children won’t leave the house-elves be no matter what we say.” 

Then he straightened. 

“You can only see the house-elves if you give your mother a kiss on each cheek and wish her a Merry Christmas,” Draco informed the children. 

Each child jumped gladly to do their part, pulling at Ginny’s pants to grab her attention. After six kisses, and three Merry Christmases, the children darted off to find a house-elf to bother. Amusement flashed across Draco’s features as the children’s giggles faded away. 

“Most of the money paid for today’s services will be donated to house-elves in need, whether they have poor housing situations or in order to educate them on their rights,” Susan began abruptly once the children were out of sight. “It is always an honor to have your business and it makes _such_ a difference in the lives of the house-elves I’ve employed and those we seek—”

“Bones,” Draco drawled, rudely interrupting her. “We know this already.” 

“Well, yeah,” Susan faltered, hands wavering by her sides. “But it’s a part of our company ethics to make sure each and every customer knows how much their business means to us, and that we’re using it for the house-elves and not for ourselves.” 

“Yes, I know that, but Granger helped you create this little gig and you know she’s talked our ears off about this. So, honestly, no need to waste your breath and our time with repeating what you’ve told us on six or seven different occasions now.” 

Ginny frowned at Draco, elbowing him sharply to shut him up. Susan didn’t seem deterred, however. Her round face brightened and she began digging in her purse. The couple watched Bones as she pulled out a roll of parchment. Then, with a wave of her wand, the parchment unraveled and floated beside her. Next, she pulled out a quill, which also lifted out of her hands and poised itself at the top of the parchment. It reminded Ginny of Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill and she made a face at the sight of it. 

Susan didn’t notice, for she had begun to speak rapidly to Draco once more. Ginny peered curiously at the parchment and saw that it was a list of things to be done around the house. 

“Well, I’ll get to work then,” Bones said happily. “It should only be two or three hours till everything is done. And—”

“Yes, yes,” Draco interjected, again. “We know. I’ll meet you here once you’re done with your money.” 

Susan nodded before rushing off in the same direction as the children, the parchment and quill soaring after her. When she disappeared from view, Ginny turned to Draco with a frown. 

“You were rather rude to her, you know,” Ginny informed him, poking him with her finger. 

He swatted her hand away and started towards the staircase. When she didn’t immediately follow, he turned to look at her. 

“ _She’s_ rather annoying,” he said pointedly. “We’ve heard that bloody mantra every time we’ve used her services and, honestly, you hate it too. So, technically, I did you a favor and you’re welcome.” 

Ginny blinked at him, taken aback, before perking her eyebrows. 

“I hardly need to be in debt to a Malfoy,” Ginny quipped. 

He stared at her, a beautiful smile brightening his face at her words. She pursed her lips to hide her amusement. 

“You’ve been in debt to me ever since I married you. It’s a favor I’ve done for you,” Draco responded. “You’ll be paying it off for the rest of your life.” 

She laughed, unable to hold back. Draco allowed a chuckle to escape before he beckoned her to follow him up the staircase. 

“Come now. There’s plenty of things to be done before half of the wizarding community shows up at our doorstep tonight.” 

When she reached his side, they began up the staircase together. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Ginny didn’t want to lie to Draco again. She was so sick of it, the lying. Having told Orion the truth about her memory loss, and then having lied to Draco the next day about going to see Pansy, left her more than slightly conflicted. Draco was her husband. The constant temptation to really view him as her husband, to decide to make it work with him despite whatever had happened before her accident, pulled at her insides. But she knew she needed to speak to Luna before she could make a decision like that. 

What if whatever Luna had to tell her completely shattered the illusion she had built of her life with Draco? Could this meeting with Luna change everything? She half wanted to stay home— to witness Draco worry over the house being prepared for the party, to see his expression lighten when the children came running into view, to meet his eyes anytime he looked for her. Ginny could pretend everything was fine, she could. But she could feel that her memory was coming back rapidly, that she’d remember everything soon, and if she didn’t go see Luna would she have the tools to stop her life from spinning out of control? 

A wariness crept over her, though. Ginny easily recalled the cold fury in Draco’s stance as he questioned her over taking Lyra to see Luna at St. Mungo’s just a few mornings ago. She hadn’t remembered why she had done that, of course. But she couldn’t shake the idea that Draco didn’t like Luna very much. If Ginny told Draco she was going to see Luna, would he be furious? Would he fight her on it? Was there a chance it would open old wounds? By telling Draco she was going to meet Luna, would it potentially ruin their relationship again, without her even knowing why? 

This was all very annoying. Ginny was sick of lying to her family. And that’s what Draco was; family. If he found out she lied to him, not just about seeing Parkinson but also about seeing Luna, would he stop trusting her? Was it worth the risk of him pushing her away, of him treating her like he had the first day she came home? 

It made her head spin. But, as she showered then dressed, Ginny realized time had no intention of slowing down while she made her decision. And when she sat at the vanity, brushing the knots out of her hair, she realized how long it had been since her accident occurred. 

Seven days. 

The Healer had told her it would take her about a week to get all her memories back. And, despite how swiftly some memories were returning, the whole of her memory from the past decade was still missing. Ginny barely remembered any of her pregnancies or any time spent raising the children. She couldn’t remember why Draco had the divorce papers written up— what exactly had been his breaking point? There was still so much missing. 

If she didn’t remember everything soon, did she go to the Healer like advised? Did she go have him prod her, examine her, try to bring her memories forward with magic? Or was she okay not remembering every horrible thing that had occurred between her and Draco? Was there a possibility of letting it all go? However, if she didn’t remember all the bad, she’d never remember all the good. Ginny didn’t get to pick and choose. 

It was all or nothing. 

She could hardly concentrate on the idea that her time of being blissfully ignorant was running out. Instead she decided to focus on the trouble at hand. Did she tell Draco she was going to see Luna? 

_Yes._ She had to. 

Ginny found him sitting in his office, reading over paperwork. The children’s laughter echoed randomly throughout the house as they watched over the house-elves and it filled the study when the door swung open to let her in. 

He glanced up quickly at her. Then his eyes darted back to the parchment after he appraised her. She slid into the seat across his desk, folding her hands in her lap as she waited for his full attention. Ginny felt like she was back at Hogwarts, sitting in front of McGonagall’s desk as she made Ginny sweat over her potential punishment. After a moment, Draco put his quill down and met her gaze. Wariness clouded his face. 

Bloody hell, she hated that he could read her so well. 

“What is it, then?” he inquired, examining her. “You seem worried.” 

An uneasy laugh escaped her. 

“Just worried about tonight,” she lied. “That’s all.” 

As soon as she finished speaking, she groaned. No more lying. Why couldn’t she stick to that? Ginny had no problem telling Draco the truth when it involved just the two of them. Once someone else came into the picture, though, the lies spilled from Ginny’s mouth quicker than she could keep track. Determined to power through, Ginny straightened in her seat. 

“That wasn’t the truth,” Ginny admitted while Draco watched her curiously. 

His eyebrows perked at her admission. 

“I’m going to meet up with Luna,” she continued slowly, studying his reaction. 

His familiar icy exterior emerged as soon as the words left her mouth. It was as though Draco threw up a shield whenever he was displeased, blocking her from truly reaching him. His face cleared of any potential reaction and he stared at her blankly. But she could see he had grabbed the quill he had just put down, his grip tight enough to snap it. And there was a slight pull to his lips, as if he fought against what words wanted to be heard. 

Ginny leaned forward. 

“Look,” she began, testing how the words tasted in her mouth. “I know you don’t like her very much, for whatever reason. And I know… I know you want me to respect your feelings on this. And I should, I mean, you are my husband but— but she’s my best friend. I’ve been feeling rather lost without her the past few days and I’d really like to go see her.” 

She paused. Ginny wasn’t asking Draco’s permission to go see Luna and she hoped he didn’t view it as that. But she did want him to be okay with it. Luna and Draco must’ve been friends at some point, if Ginny’s memory served her right. It shouldn’t be this hard. 

Licking her lips, she reached for him. But she faltered at his vacant stare, her hand instead landing on the desk. 

“Talk to me,” Ginny pleaded softly. 

_Don’t shut me out._

Those four words were a familiar hymn in her head. How many times over the past ten years had she been forced to break through Draco’s harsh exterior to find out what he really thought, what he really felt? 

Draco leaned back in his seat, lifting a hand to his lips. When he spoke, he pointed at her casually. His aloof attitude seemed forced. 

“You have to see Lovegood to feel like yourself again?” he questioned. 

His gaze was callous and unyielding as he waited for her answer; he was unwilling to give her any time to herself to figure out her thoughts. Ginny _hated_ that he used his knowledge of her to his advantage. 

“There’s something missing,” she tried to say but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. 

Draco turned his head away from her, glancing out the window. She saw his eyes moving, perhaps tracing the tree branches outside or eyeing birds that took flight. Ginny wasn’t sure— she was too afraid to take her gaze off of him in case she missed something. It wasn’t often that Ginny could understand what Draco was thinking, what the twitch of his face meant, but sometimes she _could_ and she wasn’t willing to lose that opportunity. 

And then she _knew_ what was happening— that he was trying to think on what to say next, that he wanted to pick his words carefully, whether to make sure they delivered the right amount of venom or so that they didn’t upset her, she wasn’t sure. The comprehension came to her as easily as the knowledge that Draco had insomnia when stressed had arrived. Effortlessly, as though it had been there all along, just waiting to be evoked. 

Ginny shifted in her seat, unsure for a brief second, before standing. Her movement startled him and he looked back to her, the mask he wore slipping. Swiftly, Ginny walked around his desk, following her movements from the night before. She settled in his lap, ignoring the way his body went stiff at the contact. Letting out a breath, Ginny reached up to touch him then wavered. 

“It’s not anything to do with you,” Ginny promised. “You’ve been… more than I could have ever hoped for.” 

The words were true and honest as they left her mouth. She had never said that out loud before, and never would have thought she’d speak them to Draco so willingly, but as they hung in the air between them relief coursed through her veins. He deserved to know. Draco met her eyes before swallowing. 

She continued speaking, hoping she was saying the right thing. 

“But I _need_ to see her. She’s been my best friend for ages and… I’d love to stay here with you and the kids, honestly. But I want to make sure she’s okay. After Lyra said she had been at St. Mungo’s, I just can’t get the idea of her being ill or hurt out of my head and I can’t bloody remember and I’m not there to check on her. It’s for my own personal sanity, Draco, really.” 

It was as much of the truth as Ginny was willing to share. Her sincerity must have rung true for he relaxed under her. Tentatively, he lifted a hand, brushing it over her arm. His touch ghosted over her skin, forcing goosebumps to rise, before stopping to linger over her fingers. She didn’t look away from him even though he lowered his own gaze. When his fingers found her wedding ring, he sighed. 

“I’ll know when your memory has returned completely.” 

He breathed out the words and they danced over her skin. Ginny stilled, an ominous feeling washing over her. 

“You won’t look at me the way you do now.” 

What he said made her breath catch. Was that true? Would she look at him differently than she did now? Ginny couldn’t imagine it, not after everything that had happened the last few days. But when he lifted his eyes, the familiar gray orbs vulnerable, the sense of foreboding intensified. 

She wouldn’t let it. Ginny wouldn’t let anything change. Not if she could help it. All she had to do was go see Luna and then everything would be figured out, it would all be fine. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Draco confessed, reading her expression as he often did. 

His free hand trailed along her spine soothingly. 

“Go see Lovegood,” he muttered. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

_Meet me by the trees._

It was easy for Ginny to Apparate to the location, easy for her to arouse the image from her mind. She felt rather stupid for not having realized sooner where Luna wanted to meet. The trees, the meadow, the large sky… it was all in Ottery St. Catchpole, the town Ginny would always consider home. In the far distance, Ginny could see the Burrow, in all its rickety, uneven glory. And, nearby, lived the Diggory’s and Luna’s father. 

None of the houses were close to each other in the village, which had allowed the mixing of the Muggle community and magical community to go smoothly. Most Muggles were easily directed away from any signs of magical mischief in the area. And this field… this was where Ginny had played as a child with her brothers. Her brothers never liked to venture this far from home; not because they were afraid of getting in trouble but because the walk was so long. So, she had found herself here alone often growing up. The trees that surrounded the meadow had been planted by a neighboring witch years and years ago, growing into large giants before Ginny had even been born. She had always thought the trees breathed magic and life into the air. 

Perhaps that’s why she had liked coming here so much. 

And the night Draco had come to the Burrow for the first time, confronting Ginny over avoiding him, she had brought him here too. Ginny could briefly recall the tranquility in Draco’s eyes when she had led him into the pasture, the night sky cloudy from approaching rainfall. It had been the calm before the storm — she could remember hearing the wind move through the high grass, the pour of rain in the far distance. Around them, the trees had danced, leaves falling from the branches, the smell of raw magic burning their noses. 

Goosebumps covered her skin as she took a deep breath, trembling from the memory. She had thought that night that something had changed between her and Draco. Their relationship became more than what it had been before, more than what either thought it could be. 

A figure in the distance caught Ginny’s attention, forcing her back to reality. By the edge of the trees, so tiny compared to the wooden titans behind her, was Luna. She was waving to Ginny, trying to catch her gaze. Nerves struck Ginny suddenly and she gripped her hands together inside of her cloak. It was Luna, alive and well. Finally, Ginny had found herself with the woman who had been a mystery to her the past week. With a jolt, she hurried towards her friend. 

The closer she got the more the worry and stress left her. Luna stood beside a blanket with a tiny basket, wearing a bright yellow robe that gave Ginny glimpses of purple leggings and a patterned dress underneath. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled high in a haphazard bun and her trademark Dirigible plum earrings hung from her ears. She looked so _familiar_ that warmth spread through Ginny. 

“Hello, Ginny,” Luna said lightly when Ginny was in range of her. 

Throwing her arms around Luna, Ginny hugged her tight. 

She was alive and healthy— Ginny could feel her chest rising and falling with each intake of breath. When she leaned back to look at Luna better, she saw the usual twinkle in Luna’s eyes and a soft smile on her lips. Ginny let out a watery laugh. 

“Luna, I’m so happy to see you,” Ginny cried out, releasing her so she could properly wipe at her eyes. 

The beam on Luna’s face grew. 

“I’ve brought lunch,” Luna told her, pointing to the basket. “I think it’s such a lovely day for us to meet up and eat together. Don’t you?” 

Ginny nodded. There wasn’t a cool breeze today and, sometimes, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. And they were here, together again. Briefly, Ginny wondered how long it had been since she’d seen her friend. From the way her heart squeezed, she could only assume ages. Luna reached out and grasped Ginny’s hands and, together, they sat. 

Luna didn’t seem bothered to begin unpacking the lunch she had brought, instead glancing around the area happily. Her eyes would randomly land on Ginny and they’d search her, though her smile never wavered, before bouncing back around. After a second, in which Ginny was able to appreciate the relief that had flooded her, she tried to speak. 

“Luna,” she began than paused. 

What was she supposed to say? What did she even want to know? This wasn’t going to be as easy as she wanted it to be. Luna looked at her curiously. 

“You seem happier,” Luna stated, taking the reins from Ginny. “Your memory loss has been a good thing?” 

Ginny worried at her bottom lip with her teeth and nodded. 

“Yes, I think so,” Ginny answered slowly. “There’s still so much missing, though.” 

Luna made a sound deep in her throat. 

“It must be a lot,” she told Ginny. “You weren’t nearly this happy the past year.” 

Her eyebrows perked what Luna said but they revealed nothing she hadn’t already assumed. Luna hummed softly to herself as she picked at some of the dead grass that lay wasted beside the blanket. Ginny watched silently, trying to collect her thoughts. 

“About ten years’ worth of memories lost, to be exact,” she informed Luna. 

“How exciting,” Luna gasped. “A whole new chance at life.” 

Ginny frowned before shrugging. A whole new chance at life? She had never viewed it that way before. It had mostly seemed an inconvenience. 

“I’ve felt lost.” 

“But you’ve been finding yourself, surely,” Luna responded lightly. 

Wanting to snort at the idea of having found herself the past week, Ginny opted to take the conversation a different direction. She was here to talk about Luna— to find out what had happened to her, what had gone wrong that made Ginny so anxious to see her. This had nothing to do with Ginny and her marriage. 

“Luna, I’ve been worried over you. Tell me—”

“Did you have a run in with a Fwooper? They tend to drive a person insane from their song, so it isn’t too hard to assume memory loss could be a possible side effect. They are beautiful, though, aren’t they? But they’re found mainly on the African continent. Have you been to any country there recently?” 

“Quidditch accident. It was a Quidditch accident,” Ginny interrupted, an unwilling smile tugging at her lips at Luna’s outrageous suggestion. “I got hit in the head with a bludger.” 

Luna let out a soft _‘oh’_ of disappointment. 

“That’s not very exciting, is it?” Luna asked. 

Ginny grimaced. 

“Well, it hurt a lot,” she told her honestly, as if that made up for the lack of drama. 

It was odd, sitting here with Luna, as though nothing was wrong. Over the past week, Ginny had been increasingly worried over her absent friend. And Blaise had been worried too. But now that she sat here, cold air making her eyes sting as she studied Luna, she wondered if the worry had been for naught. Clearly, Luna was fine. They spoke together as if nothing had happened at all between them. Perhaps the anxiety she had been feeling had nothing to do with Luna and her wellbeing but something else, something she was missing…

“Have you been okay?” Ginny questioned gently. “I remember… you were at St. Mungo’s. But I can’t remember why and I’ve been concerned.” 

Looking up from the ground, Luna’s large eyes seemed to dim. But she spoke easily. 

“It was nice, hearing from you,” Luna said sincerely. “It made me feel much better from how I have been feeling. Physically, I’ve been fine. I went to St. Mungo’s almost a year ago.” 

She leaned towards Ginny suddenly but it didn’t startle her. Ginny was used to Luna’s dottiness. Honestly, she was rather accustomed to Luna’s abrupt movements when she thought she spotted a creature or when she simply forgot personal boundaries. Luna stared into Ginny’s eyes without blinking before she smiled again. 

“It’s all right there, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You’ve just been avoiding it.” 

With slight pressure, Luna pressed her thumb against Ginny’s forehead. Ginny frowned at the contact. 

“Avoiding what?”

“Your memories, of course,” Luna told her. 

Ginny shivered. Luna was dancing around her questions and she wasn’t sure whether she was doing it deliberately or not. But every time she grew suspicious of Luna’s intentions, of whether she made the right choice coming here, she’d see Luna’s familiar smile and relax. 

Luna abruptly laid on her back, stretching her feet to the edge of the blanket, and stared up at the clouds. Ginny smiled softly and followed suit, her arm brushing Luna’s as she looked up. The weather was much calmer than the day before and the clouds floated lazily by. If she squinted hard enough she could try to make images out of them. All Ginny could hear was Luna’s recognizable humming as she studied the sky. This was all so well-known to Ginny that she pushed to remember how many times she had done this with Luna over the years. 

“I had a miscarriage,” Luna suddenly breathed. 

Ginny inhaled sharply, her hand finding Luna’s automatically as something tugged at her memory. 

_She was… running through Luna’s house, sidestepping an odd plant that seemed to reach for anyone who tried to cross it. Excitement bubbled in her and she could hardly stop the tears from forming as she pushed open the back door and ran towards the tiny group sitting underneath the lone tree in the yard. Luna looked over at her, already smiling._

_Lyra giggled in Ginny’s arms, reaching to tug at her hair, finding the whole sprint amusing. Orion was placing a flower crown on Gray’s head but stopped when he saw his mother. The twins giggled at her arrival._

_“What is it?” Luna asked, feeding off Ginny’s delight._

_“Lyra— she, well, she’s finally said her first word!” Ginny panted. “I was just putting her down for her nap and she said it! Mama! She said mama.”_

_The four young boys all jumped to attention, running up to Ginny to pat Lyra’s tiny legs in congratulations. Luna beamed at her._

_“Congratulations, Lyra!” Luna cooed, walking over to press a kiss to the toddler’s head. “This calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?”_

_Orion let out a whoop of excitement._

_“Have you told Draco yet?” Luna inquired._

_Ginny stilled in surprise. She hadn’t… Merlin, she hadn’t even thought of writing Draco. Lyra had said_ ‘mama’ _and all thought had left her except that she needed to go tell Luna what had happened. Shifting Lyra from one hip to the other, Ginny forced her smile to widen before nodding._

_“I’ll go do that now. And I’ll write Blaise too. We can do dinner tonight or… a party. Something to celebrate.”_

_Ginny glanced down at Lyra as she spoke, insanely proud of the toddler._

_The memory was gone. Now she was filled with desperation and self-loathing as she spilled her secrets to Luna. And… and Luna hadn’t looked at her like she was mad. Honestly, that’s what Ginny had been worried over the most. She was supposed to be a great mother and a doting wife and still manage her career and it was driving her insane. This wasn’t what Ginny had planned— she could hardly breathe some mornings when all three children were crying and she had no one there to help her. She could reach out to her mum or Hermione for help, she knew that, but… no one else seemed to have had trouble raising their family like she did._

_And Luna had grabbed Ginny’s hands, her grip so comforting and strong, taking the worry from her with a simple touch._

_“We’ll be a team, then,” Luna had told her._

_Just like that, Ginny found a companion to help her deal with everything._

_Everything shifted, the surroundings blending as if she were mixing different color paints together. Then it cleared. Blaise stood beside her, rocking Lyra asleep in his arms. He was wearing glasses that were pushed down to the tip of his nose as he looked over a long roll of parchment. Ginny smirked at how domesticated he looked before she glanced over the library. Luna was waving her wand, creating large bubbles shaped like dragons to entertain Orion and Lorcan. The two boys gasped quietly every time a different bubble appeared. Lysander slept on the windowsill, his tiny leg hanging over the side, twitching occasionally in his slumber. Gray was snuggled in her lap, happy to have her to himself._

_And it worked. This was the first time in ages she hadn’t wanted to pull her hair out as she stayed at home with the children. Plus, there were two additional children added to the mix! There could be peace and quiet, at least for a short period of time, as long as she had an extra hand to help calm the madness. Ginny sighed contently and Blaise looked up from his reading._

_“Who would have ever known I’d get caught up reading this shite?” Blaise asked, turning his hand slightly to show her the title of the paper._

_It was Luna’s findings on merpeople that she planned on turning in to the naturalist committee at their next meeting. Ginny smirked at Blaise._

_“There’s more to you than even you know,” she joked._

_Blaise’s gaze left hers and she followed his line of sight, spotting Luna. He made a sound of agreement deep in his throat._

_She blinked and they were no longer in the library. GAll Ginny saw was fire. Even from the hallway, Ginny stared into the drawing room and desperately watched the fireplace. No longer did she bask in the shade under the tree. The sun was gone, replaced by flames. Her pride over her daughter’s first word stolen from her, traded for anxiety._

_She heard Hermione sniff loudly behind her and she turned slowly to look at her friend. There was a disapproving frown marring Hermione’s face but, other than that, she seemed intent on not speaking. After all, what was there to say? Ginny’s world was slipping from her hands, finding the cracks in between her fingers like water, escaping with little effort._

_He had promised, he had promised… Why wasn’t he here yet?_

_The tension from Hermione was apparent and it did nothing to help calm Ginny. Instead, she let her eyes drift to Luna, who was dancing by herself in the middle of the corridor. Hermione and Luna had always been polar opposites, one who lived off logic and the other who believed in the impossible. Even now, their differences were apparent. While Hermione was furious, Luna was calm._

_As if realizing that Ginny’s attention had drifted to her, Luna looked over at her friend. Luna didn’t stop swaying her hips to a silent song. Finally, the silence became too much for Hermione and she spoke._

_“He knows this is a benefit ball? That it will be seen as extremely rude if we show up late?” Hermione snapped, crossing her arms angrily._

_“That’s likely why he sent the owl apologizing this morning,” Luna responded softly._

_“Bloody Malfoy,” Hermione muttered, kicking at the carpet. Then she glanced up at Ginny and grimaced. “Sorry.”_

_“No, no,” Ginny grumbled. “Bloody Malfoy is right.”_

_Draco was never late. It had been instilled in him since birth that it was proper to be on time, always. But this was pushing it. The large clock that hung in Hermione’s entryway chimed, signaling that it was eight o’clock. For the past hour, the three witches had been ready and waiting. Harry and Ron were already at the Ministry ball; Harry had been required to show early, as an Auror, and Ron had offered to go with him._

_The idea of leaving without Draco made her stomach sink. Ginny didn’t want to go to this ball at all but she always looked forward to the idea that Draco was there to share amused glances with. Had work really kept him this late? When she had received an owl earlier saying Draco wouldn’t arrive to Hermione’s on time, Ginny had assumed it would be twenty minutes past seven at most, while the girls were still getting ready._

_They didn’t need to wait for him, of course. But he had said he’d show and he hadn’t yet. What if something was wrong?_

_It was almost time to leave though, before their late arrival was perceived as rude and arrogant. She glanced worriedly at the fireplace, wondering if the flames would turn green any moment now to announce his arrival. As though it noted her concern, the light in the room brightened as the fire turned emerald. Hermione saw the coloring and rushed into the room._

_“Finally,” she muttered._

_A dark figure stepped out of the fireplace, wiping at his robes, before glancing around at the women. His gaze lingered on Luna, an appreciative smile brightening his face._

_“Blaise!” Luna cried out warmly. “What a pleasant surprise. Have you seen Draco?”_

_Hermione shrugged on her cloak, eyebrows furrowing when she noticed it wasn’t Draco who had arrived._

_“Yes, he’s already at the ball,” Blaise said apologetically, his eyes finding Ginny’s. “He had asked me to escort you three to the ball earlier and it had slipped my mind. My apologies.”_

_Blaise stepped further in the room, offering Hermione a compliment on her dress robes._

He’s lying, _Ginny thought furiously, as Luna came to stand beside her._

_“He is,” Luna agreed._

_Ginny jumped in surprise, unaware that she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Straightening, she took a deep breath. It would do no good to be angry going to this event. Even if Draco had sent Blaise to fix his mistakes. Again._

_Reaching for Luna, thankful for her presence, Ginny stepped towards Blaise. With a flash of light, everything changed. Ginny was walking beside Blaise as they followed their small army through the park. Luna led the way, making the children march in a single line. She continued to wave her hands in the air to keep their attention, though she knew they desperately wanted to play in the snow. It was something Luna was truly talented at, keeping children’s concentration on her._

_“If you care so much, why don’t you—”_

_“Oh, stop, Ginny,” Blaise interrupted, exasperated. “You’re hardly one to talk about feelings. I’d rather take relationship advice from You-Know-Who than you.”_

_Ginny rolled her eyes._

_“Well, it’s not like you’ve hidden it well, the past few years,” she bit back. “You’re as obvious as I was with Harry.”_

_“Or how you were with Draco,” he added._

_She glowered at him and watched his lips tug into a frown._

_“Sorry, that was out of line,” Blaise mumbled. “But I rather blame you for this. If you hadn’t started having her around so often, I’d have never become so…”_

_He struggled to pick a word and Ginny pursed her lips._

_“You were besotted with that witch since before my wedding,” Ginny informed Blaise. “You can’t blame me.”_

_The snow crunched under their feet, filling the momentary silence as Ginny looked out at the park. Everything was so blindingly white that her vision blurred and, blinking, the world around her focused. She was in a restaurant. Blaise was helping Luna up from her seat, his eyes soft when Luna grinned up at him. A stone settled in her stomach, heavy and hot. Ginny hated knowing Luna’s secret, hated that she couldn’t tell Blaise. But she knew that it would destroy him when he eventually found out._

_Did she really want to worry over that now?_

_She tore her gaze away from her two friends when Blaise helped Luna put on her yellow cloak and looked to her husband. He was annoyed; she could tell by the pull around his lips. Draco was upset about something and Ginny could only assume what. Because she made him sit through a dinner with their friends? Because she had, perhaps, spoken too little to him throughout the meal and too much to Blaise and Luna? Because she had found herself distracted randomly, thinking on Blaise’s eventual devastation when he finds out Luna’s pregnant?_

_Ginny didn’t want to fight with Draco, not tonight. They were supposed to have a fun night for once and—_

Luna looked over her curiously and Ginny blinked to regain her surroundings. When Luna saw that had Ginny had focused on her, she visibly relaxed. 

“I thought something had happened,” Luna admitted worriedly. 

Ginny let out a breath, struggling to sit up. Her head swam and the trees around her were blurry for a moment before returning to normal. 

“Something did happen,” she told her, shaking her head. “I didn’t… Luna, the miscarriage… I’m so sorry.” 

The pregnancy that wasn’t meant to be. Ginny could remember Rolf’s urgent owl to her, informing her that Luna was at St. Mungo’s after having a miscarriage. He was out of the country, couldn’t get back for two days, and he knew Luna would want someone there with her. Ginny had taken Lyra with her, since she had been home with Ginny all day, sick. The boys had been with Draco’s mother. Luna had left her twins with her father in the morning, planning on spending the day meeting with the nature committee. 

It had been horrible. Soul crushing. Ginny hadn’t been sure if Luna was excited about the pregnancy or not but the loss of the baby made Luna someone Ginny didn’t recognize. 

And Blaise would never find out about the pregnancy. Luna had made her promise not to tell him at St. Mungo’s and she had agreed. Ginny wasn’t sure what would ruin him more; the thought of Luna being pregnant with Rolf’s child or the fact that she hadn’t wanted him to know about it. 

Ginny put a hand to her head, eyes squinting as her head roared. 

“Blaise… he,” she shook her head again to clear her thoughts. “He’s in love with you.” 

Luna’s face brightened, as if what Ginny had stated was the most brilliant thing in the world. Perhaps, to Luna, it was. 

“Yes,” she replied, intertwining her fingers and placing them on her lap. “He is.” 

The revelation startled Ginny. But how could she not have known? If she had pried deeper into her memories, or read into Blaise’s inquires more, perhaps… Alas, it did not matter now. 

“And do you love him?” 

Luna blinked at Ginny, a smile lingering on her face, but didn’t respond. 

Ginny stared at her, flashes of memory coming back. Blaise had hardly ever let Luna out of his sight once she had arrived in his life. If they were together, his gaze was on her. And Ginny had watched Blaise change from a posh, snotty, young man to a caring, though private, adult. Luna had _changed_ Blaise. Or, rather, had helped him change into who he was supposed to be. 

And he had remained silently infatuated with her for years. 

“This is all very… odd,” Ginny struggled to say. “He’s been asking after you.” 

Luna’s gaze turned curious. 

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” Luna said. 

“Why?” 

Daintily, Luna opened the basket and began pulling out the food. She placed it around the blanket randomly, stopping to lick her finger when she got some jam on it. Once everything was set up properly, she closed the basket and turned her attention back to Ginny. 

“Because I haven’t seen you in a while,” she answered simply. 

Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed and she tried to think, to remember, why that was but nothing came to mind. Slowly, Ginny reached for some biscuits that Luna had put out. This all came back to Draco, Ginny knew, but she found herself cautious to push for answers. She didn’t want to overwhelm Luna, especially since Ginny had a feeling her friend was still vulnerable after the events of the last year, and she was afraid of finding out something she wouldn’t like. 

Why was she such a coward? 

_Because_ , a voice whispered, _you can’t lose Draco, not again._

The idea caused her to shudder, though there was no wind to blame it on. 

“I’m having a Christmas party tonight,” Ginny said instead. 

Luna looked up, staring at Ginny with interest. 

“I’d love for you to come, with the boys, and Rolf,” she continued. “Everyone will be there. And… I don’t know, perhaps seeing Blaise would help ease some of his worry over you.” 

A sad smile darkened Luna’s features. 

“I don’t think Draco would like that, Ginny.” 

Ginny frowned. Worry bit at her but she had to continue on. She was brave, she could be brave, she could hear Luna wanted to say. There was no way to hide from the truth forever. 

“Well, why not?” she questioned timidly. 

Luna shrugged lightheartedly. 

“He believes that you tried replacing him with me,” she paused. “It made him not care for me very much.” 

Ginny thought of the sour expression on Draco’s face from the memory, remembered the tension in his body when Lyra mentioned Luna, and she stiffened. That was it? Draco had thought Ginny had tried to replace him with Luna and that’s why he hated the blonde witch? She wanted to laugh, because it sounded so ridiculous, but something choked her. Because there was so much anger, so much hurt, behind the idea that she knew it was true. 

He had felt replaced in his own family. 

“Was I?” Ginny managed to ask after a moment. “Was I trying to replace him with you?” 

It was only a second where Luna glanced at Ginny, her eyes protruding in surprise, before she nodded. 

“Yes, certainly.” 

Her grip on the biscuit was so tight it crumbled in her hands. A horrible feeling washed over her, making her both nauseous and sweaty. Dear Merlin, had she actually done that to Draco? Had she been trying to force him out of the family? How could she have done that to him? Ginny’s hands trembled as she dumped the crumbs into the grass. She wiped away any evidence of it before looking back to Luna. 

“So that’s why we haven’t seen each other recently,” Ginny whispered. 

It was more of a statement than a question because Ginny _knew_ that was why. That was why she had felt dread and worry each time Luna was mentioned around her, surely. The knots in her stomach didn’t disappear, however. If anything, she felt more weighed down than before. 

Had Draco asked Ginny to stop seeing Luna? Or had Ginny realized what she was doing and decided to take it upon herself to not spend so much time with her? Had Draco fought with her about it? Or had Draco pulled away from her even more? None of it made sense. 

Luna reached out, brushing some of Ginny’s hair to the side. The blonde witch seemed comforted by the contact and her lips loosened into a smile again. 

“I’m happy to see you, Ginny,” she told her genuinely. “And I’m glad that you’re happy again.” 

“I’m so sorry, Luna,” Ginny whimpered, devastated. “I can’t believe I muddled up this situation so badly. I can’t believe I chose between you and… and…”

She buried her head in her hands and tried to take a deep breath to calm down. But the tears didn’t heed her wishes, pouring from her eyes, dampening the palms of her hands. Ginny took a shuddering breath when Luna reached out and touched her shoulder. 

“You chose your family,” Luna said, very matter-of-fact. “I’m not angry, not at all. I knew I’d see you again. And I know this will all work out.” 

Ginny looked up miserably. Her nose was runny from the sudden tears and her face felt hot. But the sight of Luna’s optimistic smile made it easier for her to breathe. 

“How do you know that?” 

Luna shrugged secretively at Ginny’s question. Ginny leaned forward and embraced her. She squeezed her eyes shut, hating decisions she couldn’t remember making, hating fights she had with Draco that she couldn’t recall, hating that she had been forced to choose between Draco and Luna and, still, had somehow lost them both. 

“Look! A raven!” Luna cried suddenly, pointing to the sky. 

She kept one arm around Ginny, hugging her comfortingly, as Ginny looked up at the clouds. A lone raven flew through the air, cawing loudly. 

“Daddy’s always says that ravens are bearers of good fortune,” Luna noted, her voice taking on a dreamy tone. “Perhaps it means your party tonight will go well?” 

Ginny sniffed loudly, wiping at her nose with her jumper. She giggled wetly, feeling young and foolish, and Luna joined her. 

“Maybe it means that we’ll have good fortune, together, after this,” Ginny said and Luna nodded. 

“Yes, I hope so.” 

They ate more biscuits together, chatting idly as time went by. Ginny didn’t want to leave the meadow, didn’t want to leave Luna, too afraid of never seeing her again. But she also couldn’t stop dwelling over the muddled mess she had made of her life. When had everything become so complicated? 

But, even after learning so much, Ginny still felt like something important was missing. There was still a piece of the puzzle that needed to be discovered. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

When Ginny arrived home, she found herself lingering outside of the house. The house-elves had put up decorations on the outside, though Ginny found it ironic that the decorations were put up Christmas Eve and not any time before. Lights were strung around the exterior, framing the house with twinkling illuminations. It made the house look much more homier and it hit Ginny then that she was about to experience her first Christmas with her family. Sure, she had experienced years of them, but none that came to mind. 

Tonight, everyone she loved would come to her home and celebrate the holidays with her. She’d fall asleep beside her husband and wake up to the children by their bed, anxious to go downstairs. The idea of it all warmed her. 

After a moment of hesitation, Ginny approached her house. Bracing herself, she entered. She half expected someone to jump out at her, particularly Draco, ready to interrogate her over her time with Luna. Instead she was greeted with silence. Well, mostly silence. There was soft music playing somewhere deep in the house and it echoed in the foyer. Pausing in the entryway, Ginny took a moment to look over what the house-elves had done so far. 

The house had already been decorated, but only a bit and very poorly. It had been obvious that while Ginny and Draco had put some effort in sprucing up certain rooms, the rest of the house hadn’t been a concern. But the foyer, which had before been empty, was now bright with tiny lights that lined the railing, highlighting the staircase. Two large candles were lit beside the family portrait, illuminating the Malfoy family’s faces. Ginny stared at the image of herself—her eyes lingered on the small smirk that would be forever painted on her face. She sighed and looked to the ceiling. Floating above her were large, golden bubbles, bouncing off each other. She studied at them for a moment, already knowing that was a touch to amuse the children. 

Then she heard faint giggles coming from the upstairs. 

Ginny followed the sounds, quiet in her approach. The source of the laughter was found in the playroom. Crossing her arms over her chest, Ginny leaned in the doorway and looked at Orion, Gray, and Lyra. They were dressing Yolly the house-elf in princess clothes. It was odd, for Ginny knew twenty years ago any house-elf would have taken great shame at the idea of being presented clothing. Now, however, Yolly stood patiently as Gray straightened the tiara he had placed on her head. Lyra was gushing about how pretty Yolly looked while Orion bowed to her. 

“And where, exactly, is your father?” Ginny asked, breaking the spell over them. 

The foursome shrieked in surprise at her arrival. Orion fell over, clutching his heart dramatically, as Lyra covered her face with her hands, her laughter louder than it had been before. Gray rushed to Ginny, grabbing her hand, his eyes lit in excitement. 

“Mummy!” he cried. 

Ginny looked over at Yolly in amusement. The house-elf wasn’t rushing to take off the ridiculous dress that the children had placed her in and Ginny had to wonder how many times she had taken part of playing dress up with them. 

“Missus!” Yolly greeted, ears flopping as she rushed forward. “Is the decorations to your liking?” 

With a distracted nod, Ginny looked over her children again. Orion was rolling around the ground, still clutching at his chest, shouting randomly about a lack of privacy. Lyra fell to her knees, fluffing Yolly’s dress for her, attention already diverted. 

“Yes, do you like them, mummy?” Gray asked, trying to climb up Ginny’s arm. 

He didn’t get very far. 

“It’s very pretty,” Ginny said softly, smiling. 

She paused. 

“Where’s your daddy?” she asked again. 

Gray shrugged, leaning his head against her hip as he looked away from her. 

“Uncle Blaise and him are talking somewhere, I think,” he answered. 

Blaise was here? She stiffened at the realization. Ginny had forgotten that Blaise had offered to come over early to make sure everything was going smoothly. And now he was here with Draco. Surely, he’d know that she had gone to see Luna. Or would Draco hide that from him? Anxiety hit her and she looked over her shoulder, feeling as though they were behind her. 

But no one was there. 

“Oh, Missus, they’re outside,” Yolly told her promptly. “I can go get Mister Malfoy?” 

Ginny was already shaking her head no before Yolly finished speaking. 

“It’s fine, I need a moment anyway,” she rushed to say. “Are you okay watching the children?” 

Yolly nodded happily, reaching out and gently taking Gray’s hand. Gray released his hold on Ginny automatically, though his lip popped out when he realized his mum was leaving. Ginny sighed at the sight and bent down to press a kiss to his forehead. Lyra didn’t seem bothered by Ginny’s departure. When Ginny met Orion’s blue eyes she winked. His grin widened, his grip on his chest loosening. 

“I can’t wait to eat _everything_ tonight,” Orion shouted as Ginny turned and left. 

She walked down the corridor slowly, fingers tracing the wall as she went. Tonight was the Christmas Eve dinner and, very shortly, many of her friends and family would be showing up at her door to celebrate. Orion’s excitement sparked some buzz in her also, though there was still lingering dread when she realized she’d have to face both Blaise and Draco at the same time. Shoving open her bedroom door, Ginny kicked off her shoes and rolled her shoulders. 

If her life was always this stressful, it was no wonder she had decided to stop playing Quidditch. 

Taking a seat at her vanity, Ginny organized the many perfume bottles. The order meant nothing to her and she was sure once her memory returned she’d be frustrated that she even touched the bottles but at the moment her hands needed something to do. Ever since she was young, Ginny had found exercise and movement an excellent distraction when bored or stressed. It was why she had enjoyed Quidditch so much, why she had fought so hard to play it when her brothers wouldn’t let her. 

What was she even supposed to say when she saw Blaise and Draco? That the meeting had gone jolly good and not to worry over anything? Ginny snorted quietly at the thought. If Blaise wasn’t feeling betrayed in some way that Ginny had gone to see Luna, she knew that his questions weren’t going to be easy. And Draco _had_ felt betrayed, at least initially. She’d have to deal with that mess too—

The sound of muffled speaking distracted Ginny and her hands stilled. Turning her head slightly, she listened closely before slipping off the chair and walking towards the window. The sound was coming from outside. It was stifled chatter and… and yes, there they were. Dark against the light sky, Draco and Blaise stood shoulder to shoulder. Both wore serious expressions, their bodies tense. 

What could they be talking about? 

Dropping to her knees, Ginny paused for a second, in case any resemblance of a conscience appeared. Instead of words of caution coming to mind, though, she almost felt like Fred and George were standing over her, urging her on. Swiftly, Ginny unlocked the window and, when the men below didn’t react, she pressed her palms against the glass. Painstakingly slow, she lifted the window up, just enough so she could hear what they were saying. 

The initial burst of cool air made Ginny flinch but she ignored it as she strained to listen. 

“—you’ll have to do better than that, I’m afraid,” Blaise chided, glaring at Draco. “You do realize what’s at stake here?” 

Draco scowled at his friend. 

“I’m not a fool,” Draco snapped. “I know what could happen if this doesn’t work out.” 

“Really?” The one word dripped with sarcasm. “Because you hadn’t realized any of that before.” 

Draco responded but his voice was too low for Ginny to hear. She was tempted to open the window more but hesitated. What if they saw her? It’d be best for her to not push her luck. 

Blaise laughed in response to whatever Draco said but the laughter was short and sharp. 

“I’m _trying_ ,” Draco finally said. “But time is running out. I can feel it. I can see it, when I look at her—”

“Mum, what are you doing?” 

Ginny dropped to the ground, startled, before glancing over at the doorway. Orion was standing there, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her. Her breath caught. Had Draco and Blaise heard? Her eldest child stared at her curiously before slowly approaching. 

“Did you drop something?” he asked. 

The conversation continued outside, though she had no idea what they were saying now. There wasn’t time to concentrate. Forcing a smile, Ginny nodded and got to her knees, skimming her hands over the floor. 

“An earring,” she lied. “Just, uh, thought I spotted an earring on the floor. I was looking for it.” 

When Orion reached her, he crouched down beside her. His tiny hands ran over the floor as hers did, an intense look of concentration on his face as he tried to find the imaginary piece of jewelry. Guilt flashed through her but she ignored it. Ginny wasn’t trying to lie to her children but she couldn’t very well tell Orion that she had been spying on his father. 

With Orion distracted, Ginny glanced out the window. Draco and Blaise must not have heard Orion, for they continued speaking in low tones. She let out a sigh of relief before getting to her feet. With her back to the window, she slid it back into place as quietly as possible. Orion lifted his hands up helplessly, shrugging, when he found nothing. 

“Think you lost it,” he told her sincerely. “But s’okay, Yolly will find it later if you ask.” 

Ginny made a sound of agreement before holding out a hand to help Orion back to his feet. He swung himself up with her help before letting go. 

“You should probably start helping us pick out our clothes for tonight,” Orion told her quietly, though his whispering skills certainly needed work. “Just so you know. You’ve usually already done it by now.” 

She perked up at his advice, grateful once again that she had told him about the accident. He beamed when she thanked him. Together, they grabbed Gray and Lyra, freeing Yolly from having to babysit. The house-elf didn’t seem too happy about it, likely preferring to be with the children versus cleaning, but she disappeared with a snap of her fingers without any complaint. Starting with Lyra, they went to her room and Ginny sorted through her things. Orion muttered through the corner of his mouth while they searched through her drawers what Draco and Ginny normally dressed the kids in. 

Black slacks and a clean, dark shirt. It was simple enough but Ginny found herself eyeing Orion cautiously. There was no way Draco let his children run around in just this at a Christmas Eve dinner party where, as he put it, half the wizarding world showed up. Sensing her skepticism, Orion leaned in and muttered to her, “Granny always brings us jumpers that she’s knitted, if we’ve grown too much.” 

Oh, dear. Was he referring to the jumpers her mum use to send them while they were at Hogwarts? The idea that her mum was still knitting jumpers for the Weasley clan made Ginny’s heart swell. 

When they were done grabbing Lyra’s clothes, laying them neatly on the bed for her to change into later, they moved onto Gray’s room. This time it was Gray helping her, while Orion played with Lyra in the background. Gray, it turned out, hadn’t grown too much since the year before. When she found a trunk full of jumpers, all navy blue with a large, white G sewn in the middle, she held each one up to him to compare size. She could’ve cried watching how the jumpers went from tiny, infant ones, to toddler size, to that of a child. Lifting the smallest to her nose, she inhaled, and could swear it still had the sweet scent of a newborn. 

She laid out Gray’s Weasley jumper next to the slacks and shirt she found. As they left to head toward Orion’s room, they were forced to stop. Draco and Blaise, it seemed, had finally come back from inside. The three adults stared at each other, sudden tension filling the air. But the children hardly noticed. Lyra bolted to Blaise, giving him only a second to realize that she was about to jump at him before she launched off the ground. He picked her up easily, swinging her onto his hip. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned close. 

“I can’t wait for the party tonight,” she whispered loudly into his ear. 

He grimaced but managed a nod. Ginny looked away and let her gaze settle on her husband. What had he been talking about with Blaise outside? Had it been about her? She twisted her hands in front of her, suddenly nervous at the idea. But she had just gone to Luna and spoke to her about both Blaise and Draco, so what could she expect? That they never spoke about her also? 

“Come, children,” Blaise ordered. “Let’s go look at the desserts that were made, shall we?” 

Gray and Orion jumped at the chance, rushing to Blaise. When Ginny looked at Blaise, he shot her a meaningful look before turning away. 

“Can we try some?” Ginny heard Gray ask Blaise, tugging at his shirt as they went down the hall. 

Blaise shrugged but she noticed him toss Gray a secretive smile. Then they disappeared as they went down the stairs. 

Having no choice, Ginny looked at Draco again. He looked… rather miserable. His expression was dark, his lips pulled tight. 

_“I’ll know when your memory has returned completely. You won’t look at me the way you do now.”_

Being with Luna had helped her remember things she hadn’t wanted to remember before. How much time had she spent home alone, miserable with three young children while Draco had been working? When had she begun to rely on Luna instead of her husband; Luna, who made sure that Ginny knew they would work as a team to get through her troubles? When had Draco begun to care less about his family and more about work, less about spending time with Ginny and more about public appearances? 

But he was here now. And he had been since the accident. Ginny knew there was more to the story, there always was, but she wasn’t angry with him like she figured she should be. The hurt, the pain, the rage that came with her memories of Draco also came with love, respect, and companionship when she thought of how Blaise and Luna had stepped up. When Draco had started to fade into the background, Luna, and Blaise, had stepped into the light. And while that wasn’t how a marriage was supposed to work, Ginny couldn’t help but feel grateful that they had been there to stop her from drowning. 

And Draco… he had hardly left her side the last week. If he had abandoned her before, wasn’t he making an effort now to fix it? 

He must’ve been lost in thoughts also, for he leaned against the wall suddenly, focusing on her. She stared back, uneasy. 

“Did you find it?” he inquired. 

His voice rang out in the silence and Ginny straightened in surprise. 

“Find what?” 

Draco’s eyebrows rose. 

“Whatever was missing,” he drawled. 

He lazily waved one hand while he spoke but Ginny could see the tension in his movements, the strain as he kept himself composed. And she remembered she had told him that something was missing this past week, and that she had hoped Luna was the one that could help her find out what it was. In his words, Ginny could _hear_ the underlining jealousy, envy, anger that appeared whenever Draco spoke of Luna. Merlin, how hadn’t she noticed it before? 

Perhaps, because now, she knew why Draco wasn’t fond of Luna. 

He had felt replaced by her. The idea of someone feeling that way, of her husband feeling that way, made her ill. Even after all the wrong he had done… how could she have been okay with Draco feeling that way? Who had she become? 

“Sort of,” Ginny mumbled her response, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. 

Draco stayed silent, waiting for her to say more. But she wasn’t sure what to say without worsening the situation. There was still so much missing from her memory. Instead, she shrugged and forced herself to relax. 

“Are you going to be wearing a jumper my mum made tonight too?” 

His eyes narrowed at the change of conversation. 

“What?” 

Ginny grinned. 

“Come on, Malfoy,” she teased. “I know my mum must’ve made you a customary Weasley jumper at some point over the years. She adores you.” 

He crossed his arms and she saw him shutting down, blocking her out, unpleased with her response. But as he shut down, she felt herself unwinding, relief hitting her for the first time since she had left Luna. Her relationship with Draco hadn’t been perfect before the accident. She had known that since Draco came to the Burrow to take her home. There was more to them than Ginny could find out from her family or Luna or Blaise or even Draco himself. Only her memory would tell her everything that had gone wrong. 

However, now, in this moment, she was _happy_ with Draco; even after remembering what she had so far. There was no reason to fret, no need to fight about things. It was Christmas Eve, Luna was alive and well, her family and friends were coming over to spend the holiday with her, and Draco was here. Ginny knew they could fix this. 

She walked up to him, reaching for him. Ginny was half surprised he didn’t step back when she grabbed onto his arm, staring up at him with a slight smile curling on her lips. 

“What color is it?” Ginny pestered. “Black? Or green?” 

For a moment, she wasn’t sure if Draco was going to respond. But then the tension left his body. She could feel it underneath the palm that held onto him. Draco’s lips pulled back before he spoke. 

“Yellow.” 

“Yellow?” Ginny asked loudly, laughing before she could help it. “My mum knits you yellow sweaters?” 

He nodded, a half smile brightening his face as she giggled. 

“Do you wear them, then?” 

“Of course not,” he replied. “Malfoys don’t wear yellow jumpers, ever. But especially not to parties.” 

“Yes, but it’s _your_ party,” Ginny said, poking him in the chest. 

Draco caught her hand, holding it against him as he stared down at her. His touch was warm and comforting and when he tugged her towards him she went without a fight. He hesitated, but only for a moment, before releasing his hold on her hand to wrap his arms around her. Ginny froze as one of his hands came to rest on the back of her head, guiding her closer. With her ear against his chest, Ginny could hear his heartbeat, a steady, familiar beat— a rhythm she didn’t realize was one she knew by memory until just then. Closing her eyes, Ginny hugged him back. 

She wasn’t willing to speak more about her meetup with Luna and Draco… he was okay with that. It was a huge gesture of trust, Ginny realized, even if she couldn’t appreciate it as much as she probably should. Draco’s breath was warm on the top of her head as he tightened his hold on her. 

Now she just had to survive talking to Blaise. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~


	10. Day Seven, Part Two

It was hard to step away from Draco, to stop listening to the soft _da-dum, da-dum_ of his heart, to allow the moment between them to be broken. But time had a habit of speeding up when one wished it wouldn’t and Ginny knew if they didn’t start to get ready for the party tonight, if she didn’t seek out Blaise and talk to him, they would soon be rushing to accomplish everything. 

Inhaling softly, Ginny stepped out of Draco’s embrace, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. 

“So, who’s showing up tonight?” she asked gently, trying to ease the sudden tension that filled her. 

Merlin, what she wouldn’t give for some time alone with her husband. Draco blinked, concentrating on her, and ran a hand through his hair. His lips twisted into a smile. 

“I told you,” he responded lightly. “Half of wizarding Britain. Your whole family, my mother and aunt, Potter, Longbottom—”

“Why do we do this?” Ginny cut in abruptly. A blush colored her cheeks as his smile widened. “I mean, I understand, we have to see our families during the holidays but why do _we_ host the party? I hate planning any event and I _know_ you feel the same.” 

Draco snorted, amused. 

“You’re the one who insists on these parties, actually.” 

Ginny’s eyes widened in slight surprise. This was the second time that Draco had gleefully pointed out that it was _she_ who planned the gettogethers and parties, despite the fact that she had never enjoyed doing so before. As much as she didn’t want to believe him, and lay blame on him instead for the gathering tonight, she knew Draco was telling the truth. 

Unprompted, a thought came to mind. 

_It’s to keep busy during the holidays, while he is gone._

She shivered and forced her thoughts away from that direction. It would do her no good to think on that now. 

Draco inclined his head down the corridor, towards the foyer. 

“I think it’s time I get the children ready. They like to take as much time as possible. Rather annoying, to be honest,” he said, a sigh following his words. “They purposely make it difficult.” 

Ginny smirked but it faltered when she looked away from Draco and down the hall, where she knew Blaise waited for her. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier with my help?” she inquired hesitantly, wondering if there was any way of postponing her talk with Blaise further. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I’m afraid Blaise comes before me, at the moment.” 

She couldn’t help but frown. How had he known what she had been trying to do? What he said was true, though, and Ginny knew it. As much as she didn’t want to face Blaise, as much as she didn’t want to talk to him about Luna after she had just discussed the subject with Draco, she had no choice. Draco attempted to stifle a grin when she let out a resigned sigh but she still saw it. A laugh escaped her against her better judgement. 

“Alright, fine,” Ginny grumbled, bumping arms with him when she started walking. 

He caught up to her in only one or two steps and, together, they walked down the corridor to find the children. It wasn’t hard to guess where they’d be. Gray had been asking Blaise for sweets before they had even left their parents’ sight so Draco and Ginny headed straight to the kitchen. But there was no one there. 

The kitchen was filled to the brim with food, however. All the counter space was used, covered by plates of different shapes and sizes that held foods Ginny couldn’t even begin to name. They certainly weren’t the dishes her mum normally served during the holidays. It probably took the house-elves ages to cook all of this in her kitchen. Ginny had never considered the kitchen tiny but, seeing all the food, she wasn’t sure how the house-elves had managed it. 

She wandered by the different foods slowly, inhaling the warm, delicious smells. 

“Won’t this all be cold in a few hours?” Ginny questioned, glancing at Draco. 

“Of course not.” 

Ginny looked away from Draco and realized that Blaise had entered the room with her three children in tow. Gray, she noted, had chocolate smeared on his lips, his tongue darting out randomly in an attempt to lick it off. Lyra was sucking her fingers clean and Orion had a bright, dazed smile on his face. She shared an exasperated look with Draco before eyeing Blaise. 

“House-elf magic can keep it tasting freshly made for hours,” Blaise continued, ignoring their stares. 

“Found the desserts, I see,” Draco observed, pointedly eyeing the children. 

“In the dining room!” Lyra shouted happily, running up to Draco. “Do you want me to show you, daddy?” 

He smiled but shook his head at her question. Ginny looked away from Draco and Lyra, fearful that if she stared too long at the father and daughter she’d begin to melt from their sweetness, and turned her attention to Blaise. Blaise wasn’t avoiding her eyes but he certainly wasn’t happy to see her. Draco was right; she had to speak to him before the dinner guests arrived. As if reading her mind, Draco began to herd the children out of the kitchen. 

“Come, let’s get you all ready with a bath—” 

“Bath time? No! Really, we’re not that messy, Dad!” Orion objected. 

“Gray has chocolate all over his face,” Draco pointed out as he guided the children into the foyer. 

“That’s not _my_ fault,” Orion cried. “I’m clean!” 

“Me too!” Lyra agreed. 

“Orion shoved chocolate in my face,” Gray butted in angrily. “He made me messy!” 

Orion tossed an amused glance over his shoulder, eyes twinkling, and then the door shut and they were gone from view. Ginny sighed, fighting a smile, before looking back at Blaise. 

The past week she had spent plenty of time learning her husband and family. And Blaise was included as part of the family, though Ginny hadn’t known it initially. He was an uncle to her children, a confidant to her, a voice of reason to Draco. Seeing his face drawn, making his eyes more severe than she had yet seen, pulled at her heart. 

Leaning against the counter, Blaise stared back at her. 

“No warning about the monster of a house I was walking into, hmm?” Blaise hissed before she could speak. 

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, startled, but Blaise continued hastily. 

“You had bloody Susan Bones here decorating, which always gets Draco in a foul mood. Then you leave him with the children for hours on end, which, granted, he is capable of handling, but it always exhausts him. And, to make my visit much more _pleasant_ , you decide to visit Luna and you _told_ him about it. Have you lost your damn mind?” 

Abruptly, Blaise pushed off the counter and sauntered towards her. The sudden movement caused Ginny to jump. Despite the rage in his tone, Blaise threw an arm around her and tugged her along after him. She looked at him warily as he led her from the kitchen, through the foyer, and towards the front door. 

She held back her groan of dismay, if only so she didn’t anger him further. 

“What is it with you boys and going outside to talk? It’s the middle of winter!” The words slipped from her mouth when he opened the door and a burst of chilly air hit her. 

Goosebumps rose and she almost stepped out of Blaise’s hold. Before she could make up her mind, though, Blaise pulled out his wand and performed quick warming spells over each of them. Then he released her, stepping forward so he could lean against the railing and look out over the yard. Gnawing on her bottom lip nervously, Ginny stepped up beside him and let her eyes roam his face. 

His façade was calm, cool, collected, but Ginny knew that worry and fear bubbled below his surface. He did a great job of hiding it, though. It must be a Slytherin technique, she decided; something they taught every first year. 

_How to Properly Hide Your Emotions From Those Who Care, lesson one._

She shook her head at her thoughts, letting her gaze drift away from his face. Dread over the looming issue between them nipped at her, making her feel nauseous. Honestly, her worry when she arrived home after her lunch with Luna had been over Draco, and not Blaise. But now, as she stood alone with Blaise, Ginny knew the idea of talking to him about Luna made her just as nervous as she had been with her husband. 

“It’s less chaotic outside,” Blaise murmured. 

Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed, confused, but he continued speaking. 

“If you’d like to know the truth, growing up in the dungeons of Hogwarts was lovely and all but there was no hasty escape when something was going on. There were ears everywhere. Eyes everywhere. I think you’ll find that most people who had been Slytherins enjoy speaking over matters outside, where they’re less likely be overheard.” 

He was answering her question about going outside. Blaise wouldn’t meet her eyes now and Ginny resisted the urge to hug him. She had never thought of what life as a Slytherin had been like; truthfully, she hadn’t cared much when she had been a student. But the Gryffindor common room had been her home, a place where she was able to laugh or cry or celebrate with friends. 

She couldn’t imagine if the common room had been full of those listening in for secrets. It made sense, Ginny supposed, that the boys often escaped outside to speak to each other; it had been something trained in them since they were young. 

Sighing, Ginny tried to sort her thoughts. After another long moment of silence, she spoke. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about Draco… I was distracted. And I hadn’t thought you’d arrive before I got home.” 

It was a poor excuse but it wasn’t a lie by any means. Blaise didn’t react to what she said, his eyes still drifting over the front yard, and she sighed again. Unsure of what else to say, she followed his gaze. There were no houses nearby, no other people, leaving it quiet and peaceful outside. The sky was already darkening, the sun unwilling to linger long in the days of winter. Ginny folded her arms around herself, not necessarily from the chill, and leaned against the railing, studying the spots where the snow had begun to melt. 

It seemed that, no matter what Ginny did, until her memories returned she’d never be able to fix any of this. Was Blaise truly upset that Draco had been so angry when he arrived at their house? Likely not, but she couldn’t know for sure. Was this simply how he dealt with his issues? Projecting his anger at something else and dodging the reality of what really made him mad? 

Ginny had grown up in a large family, where in order to be heard and not be completely miserable she had to make her opinions and emotions known. There was no trickery of words, no shadowed glances when something didn’t go her way. She simply had to shout at the top of her lungs that _no, she didn’t steal Ron’s toy_ , or _hey! You forgot about my treat too_. If she didn’t point it out right away, directly, no one would have noticed. 

But Blaise and Draco hadn’t been raised that way. 

A tree branch in the distance fell, disturbing the tranquility around them. Birds took flight, crying out. Several deer scattered into view before disappearing again. 

Ginny shifted her weight and looked back at Blaise, bracing herself. 

“I couldn’t lie to Draco again,” she whispered. “I can’t keep lying and expecting it not to catch up with me.” 

Blaise made a sound deep in his throat, something like a strangled laugh. 

“If there’s a time to lie to him, Ginny dear, it’s whenever Luna is concerned, I’m afraid. I should have told you, I realize that now,” he responded harshly. “But I had just _assumed_ you’d know there was something rotten between Draco and her—” 

“No, I know,” Ginny cut in quickly. “I had sort of assumed. And she told me. Luna told me why Draco hates her and why we don’t see each other anymore and, yeah, I probably should have lied because I knew there was bad blood there before Luna had even said anything but I just _couldn’t_. Draco is my husband and I can’t keep dancing around our issues.” 

Astonishment colored Blaise’s face when he finally met Ginny’s eyes. Then it disappeared and was replaced with something akin to uncertainty. 

“She’s okay, then?” he asked quietly. 

The three words held so much emotion that Ginny reached for Blaise, taking a hold of his hand and squeezing it. 

“Yes,” Ginny answered. “She’s doing just fine.” 

He scowled, though there was no heat behind it, and looked away again. Ginny released her hold of his hand and allowed him a moment to collect himself. 

Throughout the last hour of her meeting with Luna, Ginny hadn’t asked the other woman how long it had been since they had last seen each other. Did it really matter? What was done was done. And she hadn’t asked any further about Draco’s jealousy of Ginny’s relationship with her. All she could do was view it as what it was; he felt replaced. 

But by not asking further about their past, she had also allowed herself to stay ignorant about the gritty details of Luna and Blaise’s relationship. There were plenty of reasons she had initially come up with when she decided not to continue questioning Luna but it mainly came down to that… there was already enough on her plate. It was utter bullshit, Ginny realized now. 

Her decision to not learn more about her past, and their past, now left her floundering as she tried smooth things over with Blaise. He had come to her, a listening ear, when she was unsure over Draco just the night before. And, if her memories held true, he had made sure to keep her company when she had wanted to push everyone away, on more than one occasion. Blaise was a complimentary member of the Malfoy household, whether she liked it or not. 

“Why did you stop spending time with her?” Ginny questioned cautiously. 

Blaise shrugged, pressing his lips together. 

“I told you that this family is all I have,” he responded nonchalantly, his tone a sharp contrast to the hard expression on his face. “Draco, the children, you… He _hates_ the idea of Luna, hates everything he’s built her up to be. And when he confronted you about it, I realized my choice was made. She’s with Rolf, anyway. What good would it do me to still try to spend time with her when she…” 

He trailed off. Ginny wanted to tell him what Luna had said, that she knew he loved her, but she wasn’t sure if it would help him or not. Instead she nodded, licking her dry lips. 

They remained silent, though it was less suffocating than before. The sun was almost completely gone. Candles that the house-elves must have put up along the path to the house suddenly came to life, each flame a different color. 

“I should have told you I reached out to her,” Ginny uttered, her words shattering the stillness between them. “You didn’t deserve to find out from Draco, who was likely spitting mad. You deserved to find out from me.” 

She saw Blaise regard her from her peripheral vision but she found it difficult to look back at him. 

“I’m not your father, Ginny,” Blaise sighed, annoyed. “You don’t need to run anything by me.” 

“Yes, but… you’re my friend,” she stated, meeting his stare. “You deserved better.” 

Frowning, Blaise’s dark eyes roamed over her face before he nodded. And that was all that was needed. His whole demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. Once again, Blaise threw an arm around her, this time his touch gentler, and his lips broke into a wide smile. 

“Let’s go help that husband of yours, hmm?” 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~ 

It wasn’t long before night had completely fallen and the guests were set to arrive. 

Life was much easier when Blaise and Draco were in good moods. Ginny no longer felt the need to tiptoe around them. Once Blaise and Ginny had helped Draco finish getting the children ready, she had set off to her bedroom with her husband. They danced around each other as they took separate showers and got dressed. The topic of Luna wasn’t brought up, tucked away somewhere hidden, and Ginny found herself unwinding as she often did with Draco recently. 

He was more than she had ever thought he could be. 

Every accidental touch between them as they got ready sparked a heat in Ginny that crept shockingly low in her stomach. Ginny wondered if he did it on purpose. She wouldn’t be surprised if he knew the power he held over her. 

But there was still a slight hesitancy between them, something weird and foreign that hadn’t been there the day before. It didn’t stop her from appreciating him, however. 

Draco Malfoy was, for lack of a better word, beautiful. 

While Ginny was more inclined to dress as the children were, in a jumper her mum had knitted and black slacks, Draco dressed as though the Minister of Magic was set to attend the party. His robes were immaculate, a dark navy she had never seen him in, with elaborate patterns sewn in the fabric. They reminded Ginny of the dress robes that Draco had worn to the Ministry ball, though they couldn’t have been nearly as expensive, for she knew Draco wouldn’t wear such lavish garments to a holiday party at his own house. 

The blue of the robes brought out the gray of his eyes, the white of his eyelashes, the definition of his jaw. 

She realized she was staring openly at him through the reflection of her vanity mirror when he turned towards her abruptly, eyebrows risen high. 

“Were you never taught that it’s rude to stare, Weasley?” Draco inquired casually, though a smirk danced along his lips. 

Ginny grinned, turning around in her seat to face him properly. 

“I just hope you realize my family isn’t likely to dress as posh as you are.” 

Draco gave a one shouldered shrug. 

“I’ve met your family before, if you’d be so kind to remember,” he responded. “They seem to be much more comfortable in…” 

He was clearly struggling to find the right word without insulting her family blatantly. Ginny snorted and stood from her seat, pursing her lips as she approached him. 

“Yes, darling?” she prodded sweetly. 

Instead of continuing his sentence, Draco reached up to brush some hair from her face before he looked her over. She had already put on her old Weasley jumper, the same one she had worn the first day home after her accident. It had been the day she had cried outside after fighting with Draco, miserable in her past decision to marry the man. Ginny wondered if he had the same memory when he saw the jumper. 

Things had changed so much since then. 

“Can I at least see you in the jumper my mum made you?” Ginny asked. 

Draco’s face brightened and he looked on the verge of laughing. But he shook his head. 

“I know your tricks, you vicious woman. You’ll likely charm it onto me for the night.” 

Giggles escaped her mouth at that and she stepped away from him. 

“I would _never_ ,” she began, trying to clear her face of amusement, but Draco’s incredulous look made her break out into laughter again. 

“You cursed me to have giant bat bogeys fly out of my nose back at Hogwarts,” he said over her laughter. “Or have you forgotten that abuse?” 

“Abuse?” Ginny snickered. “You were horrible that year, with bloody Umbridge. You deserved it.” 

He sniffed and looked away. But Ginny saw him glance at her from the corner of his eye, a true smile tugging at his lips. 

“Perhaps,” Draco allowed. 

Ginny reached out, running her fingers along the silky fabric of his robes. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she imagined wrapping her arms around him, pulling his mouth closer to hers, the feel of the silk on her bare skin as she undressed for him— 

A loud, booming knock interrupted her thoughts. Draco pulled out his pocket watch before sighing. 

“I suppose they have begun to arrive,” he muttered. 

Ginny took a deep breath, hoping Draco didn’t see how flushed she had become. 

“Come now.” Draco pressed his hand onto the small of her back and led her forward. 

She had half the mind to dig her feet in, to turn to him and kiss him, to let her family figure themselves out. Instead, Ginny let his hand guide her and they left the bedroom. They passed by the children’s playroom and found Blaise charming the toys to dance for the children. 

“Gray, put your sweater back on,” Ginny ordered quickly, when she spotted the little boy in only his pants and shirt. 

Gray let out a dramatic cry. 

“Orion and Lyra don’t have to!” Gray said, pointing to his siblings. 

“Because they’re getting new jumpers from your granny,” Draco said, his hand pressing more urgently into Ginny’s back as another knock at the door sounded. “Do what your mother says.” 

“I want a new one too!” They heard Gray cry out as they left the doorway and continued towards the foyer. 

As soon as they reached the front door, Ginny hastily open it, bracing herself for whoever stood on the other side. 

It was Molly and Arthur. 

Her mum and dad came in with a rush of cold air. There was only a second to breathe before her mum had engulfed her in a huge hug, holding her close. The familiar smell of the Burrow washed over Ginny and she relaxed in Molly’s arms. When her mum released her, Ginny’s cheeks ached from how large her smile was. 

“Mum, Dad, I’m so happy you’re here!” Ginny cried out. 

Arthur smiled gently and stepped around his wife to hug Ginny. She hadn’t seen her father since the night after the accident and she could’ve cried at how aged he seemed to her now. When she had stayed at the Burrow that night, she must’ve been in a state of her shock, for she didn’t remember her father’s hair so white or face so wrinkled. But his hug was exactly as she remembered, soothing and warm. 

When Ginny stepped out of her father’s embrace, she looked to Draco and saw that his face was pink from the tight embrace of Molly. She almost laughed at the sight of it but held back, instead looking back to her parents. Standing before them, her mum held her hands clasped together in front of her, brown eyes darting between Draco and Ginny anxiously. 

It was odd, she realized, to see Draco accept her mum’s touch so easily, a woman he had once used as a weapon to torment her children. But there was no maliciousness in his gaze now, no poisonous words lingering on his tongue. 

“Happy Christmas, dears,” Molly finally said. “How have you been?” 

Ginny sneaked a glance at Draco and saw he was holding back a small grin. 

“We’ve been great, of course,” Draco replied smoothly. 

Arthur and Molly shared a quick look that didn’t go unnoticed by Ginny. She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened. 

“Really, mum,” Ginny insisted. “Everything has been great. Merry Christmas! I’m so happy to see you both!” 

Her dad opened his mouth to speak but the sound of running feet interrupted him. Ginny turned and saw that her three children were racing down the stairs towards them. 

“Granny!” Lyra screamed, launching herself at Molly without any hesitation. 

Whether from years of practice after having so many children or simply knowing Lyra well enough, Molly caught the young girl easily. Her dad picked Gray up, pressing a kiss to his light hair, before bending down so he was eyelevel with Orion. Ginny’s gaze softened as she watched Arthur cup Orion’s face tenderly, his smile loving as he greeted his grandson. 

It was in this moment that Ginny was once again thankful for having decided to throw this party. Earlier she had complained over the idea but now she couldn’t remember why. Seeing her parents with her children made it all worth it. 

“First ones here?” her mum questioned, handing Lyra off to Draco. “Oh, hello, Blaise, dear.” 

Blaise arrived from the upstairs, a polite smile plastered on his face. He must’ve changed quickly, for he now sported dark emerald dress robes. 

“Mrs. Weasley,” he greeted. “Can I take your cloak?” 

Ginny perked an eyebrow when her mum flushed at Blaise’s question. 

“Indeed, you are the first to arrive,” Draco answered, once their attention was back on him. “Though I’m sure everyone will be here soon.” 

“Thank you, thank you, I can—” Arthur began when Blaise insisted on taking his cloak also. 

“Really, Mr. Weasley, find a good spot before everyone else arrives.” 

Ginny hid her smile behind her hand as she watched Blaise act the perfect gentleman. 

“Yeah, we can go the library,” Ginny told her parents. 

The group began heading towards the library before there was another quick knock on the door. Ginny went to head back towards the foyer with Draco but saw the light given off from the fireplace in the library turn a sudden bright green. Draco gently pushed her towards the library before turning back towards the foyer. 

It was a rush over the next thirty minutes as more and more guests arrived. Most of her brothers had young children and arrived by Floo. Her mum still carried her large clothes brush in her bag and brushed clean anyone who had a speck of soot on them. Anyone without kids, though, seemed content to arrive by Apparating into the front yard. Ginny and Draco kept busy going back and forth between the front door and the library fireplace. Most of the guests, however, settled in the many cushioned chairs and couches in the library, snacking on several appetizer plates that Yolly had put out. 

Though Ginny didn’t allow herself to linger on it too much, she couldn’t help the slight dismay she felt every time a face she didn’t recognize arrived. No names came to mind right away when one of Ginny’s nieces or nephews ran up to greet her. The majority of them had only been babies and toddlers in her memory, hardly able to speak properly to her, much less rant excitedly to her about their term at Hogwarts or ask her opinion on the latest Quidditch scandal. It wasn’t too hard to guess who they were, of course, but it didn’t stop the barely healed wound of her memory loss from reopening. 

Rose, who had just turned a year old in Ginny’s mind, looked so grown up that the words died in Ginny’s throat when the young girl greeted her. She was truly Ron and Hermione’s daughter; Rose had Hermione’s bronze skin and sharp eyes, spoke confidently of excelling in Charms, but wore Ron’s grin. Ginny knew exactly who Hugo was though, having never met him, by the teasing he gave his sister when she was informing Ginny of the delights of Hogwarts. 

“Trying to bore her to death? Aunt Ginny’s already been to Hogwarts,” Hugo said, flashing Rose an all familiar look of annoyance. “How many times are you going to recount the exact same stories to a different adult?” 

Rose glowered at her brother. 

“You’re jealous you’re not there yet, is all,” she replied sharply. 

Hugo shrugged, glancing at Ginny with a wide grin. 

“Eh, not at all,” he responded. “I get the telly all to myself.” 

Percy’s daughters both wore glasses and had his nose—Ginny’s mum always said Percy was the only child in their family with her brothers’, Fabian and Gideon’s, noses. It made them almost as recognizable as Bill’s daughters and son, who all had Fleur’s silvery blonde hair that seemed to reflect off any light. When George and Angelina arrived, the volume in the library seemed to explode. Their children, despite being closer to Gray in age, were by far the loudest of the bunch as they ran around to greet everyone. 

Throughout the chaos of the Weasley brood arriving, Harry and Pansy also showed up. Surprisingly, Pansy looked more at ease than Ginny thought possible as she walked around with Harry. It was nice to see an easy smile playing across the witch’s face. Narcissa, Andromeda, and Teddy arrived together. For a wild moment, Ginny stared wide-eyed at the unexpected trio. She had forgotten that Narcissa and Andromeda had begun to rebuild their relationship all those years ago. And Teddy, once a little boy she would babysit with Harry, was much, much older now. 

Before she could reach out to Teddy, however, Narcissa stepped up to her. 

Narcissa, unsurprisingly, looked flawless in impeccable silver robes and gloves. It was another reminder of the difference between how the Weasley family had dressed. George was currently wearing a Santa hat that was magicked to scream Christmas songs whenever he touched it. She could’ve groaned when she heard the hat begin screeching in the distance. 

Kindly, Narcissa didn’t comment on it. 

“Ginevra,” Narcissa greeted, her striking eyes inquisitive as they appraised her. “Thank you for having us tonight.” 

Ginny smiled but it felt weak on her face. The last time she had seen Narcissa Malfoy was in her library after the Ministry ball. Narcissa had warned Ginny that night of the neglected road women who married Malfoy men often travelled while their husbands fought their way into higher society. She had been brutally honest of the sacrifice made by marrying into the Malfoy family. But Narcissa had also praised Ginny, noting that it seemed her relationship with Draco was stronger than she previously imagined. 

“Thanks for coming,” Ginny sputtered, cheeks reddening under Narcissa’s gaze. 

Automatically, Ginny leaned forward and brushed her lips against her mother-in-law’s left cheek then right. Narcissa’s smile was hard when Ginny leaned back but the older witch nodded and stepped away from her, following Andromeda towards the library. Draco, she noticed, had been watching their interaction from across the foyer. When she met his eyes he turned his attention back to Charlie, who must’ve arrived while she was attempting to appear normal in front of Narcissa. 

Ginny calmed at the sight of her older brother, rushing up to him and wrapping her arms around him from behind. Charlie laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest, and turned in her arms so they faced each other. 

“Looks brilliant here, Gin, you really outdid yourself,” Charlie told her, eyes lifting towards the ceiling before landing back on her. “How’s that head of yours?” 

Ginny pursed her lips to hide her delight. When his smile brightened, she knew he saw through her attempt. 

“Fine, thanks,” she replied sweetly. 

Charlie laughed, hugging her close again. 

“Well, Mum has been keeping us up-to-date with constant updates about it,” Charlie began affectionately. “Never thought I’d hear her talk so much about Quidditch. I think you might be her favorite.” 

Laughing, Ginny shrugged. 

“How are you just discovering this now?” Ginny asked, amused. 

Their conversation was broken, however, when Neville and Hannah Abbott arrived with Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood. It was a flurry of hellos as everyone greeted each other. Several people came from the library once they heard the additional guests. Adding to the chaos, a handful of children decided to play a game of tag around the adults. 

Despite the madness of the house, Ginny found her eyes wandering to find her husband whenever he wasn’t in her immediate eyesight. It was astonishing, truly, to see him socializing so easily in such a large crowd. She had seen it before at the Ministry ball but this was _different_. These were _her_ people, her friends, her family. Nonetheless, a smile constantly curled Draco’s lips upwards, whether he was listening to Rose passionately talk about her first few months at Hogwarts or agreeing with George about the newest broom on the market being inferior to the last or accepting her mum’s kind touch as she worried over him. 

It poked at her mind harshly but she forced the thoughts away and instead made her way towards him. He met her gaze and her eyebrows rose. When she was near enough, his hand wrapped gently around her arm to tug her closer. 

“Should we begin dinner?” Draco asked quietly, bending his neck in order to whisper to her. 

His lips brushed the shell of her ear and she shivered. Draco noticed, his eyes sparkling when he leaned away from her, and Ginny took a deep breath. She didn’t like that he knew what to do to get her heart racing. 

Instead of allowing him the upper hand, Ginny stood on her tiptoes in order to whisper to him. Draco was still too tall, so he inclined his head to hear her better. Her fingers found his wrist and she could feel his pulse. It was steady, as it had been early in the upstairs corridor. 

But Ginny knew that her breasts brushed against his chest when she stood like this, knew that he could smell the perfume she had put on not too long ago. And when she placed her other hand against his cheek, guiding him closer, she felt him stop breathing. 

“Yes, I suppose so, Malfoy,” Ginny whispered before catching his ear with her teeth. 

Ginny nibbled softly before abruptly stepping back. She was pleased to see his eyes darken but she didn’t hold them long before turning away from him. 

A satisfied grin came to her lips as she recalled how his pulse had quickened. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~ 

The dining room was filled to the max but was still oddly comfortable despite how many people were crammed at the table. Yolly had moved all the desserts into the kitchen and brought out each course of food periodically. Ginny and Draco sat on opposite ends of the table and, in between them, sat the lunacy of their family. 

Dinners with the Weasley family had always been loud affairs. But with the additionally children added, and the extended Malfoy family, along with several close friends, it was hard to hear anyone not seated directly next to you. But, Ginny noted with a smile, she heard plenty of laughter throughout the meal. 

Draco sat at the head of the table on his side, with his mother on one side and Andromeda on the other. Her eyes lingered on the two sisters. 

Whenever Ginny thought of the Black sisters, she recalled with a shudder Bellatrix Lestrange in the Great Hall, wand pointed at Ginny with startling confidence; Bellatrix had known that at any moment she could’ve killed her. And she would’ve, of course, if Molly Weasley hadn’t stepped in to fight off the witch. There had been a madness to Bellatrix that Ginny had never seen before, sparking and burning behind her beautiful face. Bellatrix had been like a wildfire, hard to contain, but something that continued to draw fascination. 

And then Ginny would envision Narcissa Malfoy, who she had hardly known until recently. The perfect image of cool and collected, of high society. She could barely contain her disgust for anyone she didn’t feel worthy of her attention. Ginny had always considered her beautiful, exquisite in a way that Ginny knew she would never achieve. 

Without meaning to, she glanced at her husband. She could see Narcissa in Draco; he had her high cheekbones and thin lips, her light hair and lean figure. And, Ginny supposed, he had also inherited her kindness for those he cared about. After all, if Narcissa hadn’t loved Draco more than herself, the war could’ve ended very differently. 

But Andromeda was an odd combination of her sisters, and someone Ginny had never thought of as a Black. She had the rigid posture that came with being well bred. But the kindness that Narcissa rarely displayed glowed on Andromeda’s face. Her features were dark, sharp like Bellatrix’s, but relaxed in a way her oldest sister could never achieve. Now Ginny understood why Sirius had often mentioned that Andromeda had been his favorite cousin. She was willing to care when Narcissa wasn’t and put her power, her influence, to good use while Bellatrix had allowed it to be swallowed by madness. 

Forcing her attention away from her husband and his family, Ginny looked over the rest of the table. Most of her nieces and nephews were barely contained in their seats, energy coursing through them that kept them on the edge of their chairs. But the Malfoy children, each now properly dressed in their Weasley jumpers, were much calmer under the watchful eye of their father. She fought back a grin and looked away, joining Percy in conversation about the Ministry. 

It was over an hour later, after most of the dishes had been picked clean, that the group spread throughout the library once more. Desserts had been placed back in the dining room but everyone was so full that even the children hesitated to eat again, instead promising to come back soon to get some sweets. Draco opened several bottles of elderberry wine, Bill began pouring whiskey for anyone who wanted some, and Ginny took a moment to lounge with her mum by the fire. She eyed a corner filled with broomsticks curiously; they weren’t normally there. 

“This is just lovely, dear,” her mum said contently, patting Ginny’s hand. 

Ginny tossed her a smile. 

“It is, isn’t it?” she responded lightly. 

She couldn’t get over how much the Weasley brood had expanded in ten years. And everyone was so _happy_. It was something that, during the war, couldn’t be imagined, in fear of it never being achieved. Even after the war, happiness had been hard to find; it took years for wounds to begin to properly heal. The fact that the new additions to her family, the Malfoys and Parkinson and Blaise, Neville and Hannah and Lee Jordan, were enemies at one point who now came together to spend the holidays with each other… it was amazing. 

“Did you see the jumpers I had knit for Orion and Lyra? The children are getting so big, aren’t they? I had asked Draco last month if he needed me to knit him another but he insisted he didn’t,” her mum informed her. “He always tells me to not worry over him, to take care of the children first. Such a sweet man.” 

Her mum was eyeing her knowingly and Ginny pursed her lips, not wanting to respond. She understood what her mum was trying to do, of course. Molly loved to be in the know when it came to her children, so it came as no surprise that she was curious over the status of Draco and Ginny’s relationship. Especially since the last time Molly had seen her was in the café a few days ago, when Ginny had been rather unsure of her relationship with Draco. 

Two glasses of wine blocked Ginny’s view of the library suddenly. She looked up and made an appreciative sound when she realized who it was. 

“Mother?” Draco called, lowering the wine glass further so Molly could grab it. “Would you like a glass?” 

Ginny’s eyebrows perked in surprise at how he addressed her mum but Molly seemed unfazed by it. A slight giggle escaped her mum as she tried to wave away the glass. 

“I couldn’t, really, Draco dear,” she began but Draco tilted his head, a corner of his lip lifting. 

“I insist. It is Christmas Eve, after all,” he told her. 

The giggling grew louder and, after a moment of contemplation, her mum took the glass. 

“Sweet boy, you are,” her mum muttered before taking a sip. 

Draco turned his attention to Ginny, eyes darting to the glass he still held then back to her. Ginny leaned forward and took the wineglass from him, her fingers brushing his in the process. 

The smile on his face turned wicked and his eyebrows rose briefly. And, unexpectedly, Ginny _knew_ what he was thinking. She could hear his voice in her head, whispering to her a phrase that he must’ve said many times before. 

_If there’s a moment you’re bored, find me, won’t you?_

How many times had they escaped from parties or Ministry events to spend some much-needed time together? How many times had they almost been caught with his hands under her dress, creeping up her thighs as she struggled to keep her moans quiet? 

Her body flushed. 

“Go on, stop distracting me from my mum,” Ginny grumbled, playfully shoving his hand away. 

Draco’s smile broadened but he disappeared without another word. She leaned back into the couch, her shoulders brushing Molly’s. Her mum hummed as she took a long sip of wine before turning bright eyes to Ginny. 

“I wasn’t sure you were going to have everyone over tonight, Ginny,” Molly admitted. 

Ginny wondered if her mum had wine with dinner. There was a giddiness to her voice that wasn’t normal. Reaching over, Ginny grabbed her mum’s free hand and squeezed it. 

“Have you remembered much more?” Molly paused, cheeks reddening as she took another sip. “I’ve been wanting to write you each morning but your father keeps insisting I don’t. I don’t like the idea of you being here if you don’t want to, of course, and I realize I was a bit harsh on you the morning after your accident. You had looked so _frightened_ , Ginny, and I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” 

“Mum, it’s fine—” 

“I forgot how much you had hated him in school,” Molly continued, her voice raising slightly to speak over Ginny. “But he’s not the same man now or else you never would have married him. He’s a wonderful father, isn’t he? Do you hate it here very much, Ginny?” 

“Mum, really,” Ginny said quickly, smiling. “Don’t worry over me. This is… this is my home, mum. You were right. Coming back here with Draco was the right thing to do.” 

Her mum’s eyes glistened with unshed tears before she gave a watery laugh. Then she reached inside a pocket in her robes and pulled out a handkerchief. Dabbing at her face, Molly squeezed Ginny’s hand back. 

“Good, I had been so worried,” she admitted. 

Ginny went to respond but the arrival of someone stopped her. Teddy Lupin, with bubblegum hair and his father’s kind eyes, let out a loud sigh as he took a seat on the other side of Molly. He leaned across her mum, though, face glowing with excitement when he spotted Ginny. 

“I saw your latest article in the Daily Prophet, Aunt Gin,” Teddy raved then stopped. “Is that elderberry wine? Am I allowed a glass?” 

Ginny quickly learned that Teddy was freshly out of Hogwarts and taking a year to decide what career he wanted to pursue. He seemed overly interested in curse breaking but Ginny had a feeling it had more to do with trying to impress Bill than anything else, since Victoire and Teddy were dating. 

She finished her glass of wine gradually, enjoying the taste on her tongue, as she listened to Molly and Teddy go back and forth about curse breaking. Molly was insisting he not pursue that career (“Look what it did to Bill! He was a respectable boy at Hogwarts, I swear. But now he hasn’t cut his hair in ages!”). Ginny left once her glass was empty, giving Teddy a hopeful thumbs up before she vanished from his sight. Darting through the random groups of people scattered about the library, Ginny found the bottles of elderberry wine that Draco had opened and poured herself another glass. Before she could take a sip, however, there was a tugging at her pants. 

Gray. 

“Mummy, I’m bored,” he groaned pitifully. 

Ginny frowned. 

“Bored? You’ve loads of cousins here. There must be someone you want to hang out with.” 

Gray mirrored her frown and shook his head. 

“Can I stay with you?” he pleaded, hands bunched up in her slacks. 

She took a look around the library, wondering if there was a direction she could send him that would make him happy. When Ginny could come up with nothing, she agreed to let him stay with her. 

“Of course, darling. Do you want to say hello to everyone with me?” 

Ginny tried shuffling through the room to chat with anyone she had yet to but it proved difficult with Gray clinging to her leg. It was the first time that she truly understood what Draco had meant when he said Gray was overly attached to her. He clearly didn’t like being around loads of people and made sure he felt protected by staying as close to Ginny as possible. After ten minutes of trying to walk, and failing, Ginny put down her glass and scooped Gray into her arms. He instantly wrapped his tiny arms around her neck and his legs around her waist. 

Then she picked up her glass again and set off through the crowd. 

Lee Jordan was sitting with George, Angelina, and Oliver Wood by the fire; he had brought Wood over as a guest but when Ginny eyed them she saw the way Lee’s gaze roved appreciatively over him. She was tempted to go up to the group and sit with them until she heard Wood raving about a recent Quidditch rule that was passed for professional teams. Uneasy at the idea of having to discuss anything recent, Ginny pivoted and walked in the opposite direction. 

A gang of children took up a large portion of the library floor by the windows; Ginny pretty much had everyone’s name down with their faces by now (Louis, Fred, Molly, Dominque, Roxanne, Hugo). Further along, Narcissa sat beside Blaise, nodding at something he was explaining. Her eyes swept the room and she saw that Victoire had replaced her mum on the couch in the short span of time since Ginny had left and was cuddled up beside Teddy. Her parents were laughing loudly at Orion and Rose pulling faces by the entrance. 

And… ah, there he was. 

Draco was sitting beside a chessboard with Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and Harry. Pansy was playing a game with Ron and, from the frustrated glare on Ron’s face, seemed to be doing rather well. Harry was perched beside Pansy, offering instructions that she seemed to be ignoring. And Draco looked a tad too smug as he spoke to Hermione. 

Ginny moved closer to listen in. 

“I’m not sure what more you can ask for,” Draco was saying, waving his hand lazily. “Unless you manage to get more people to start services like Bones—” 

“The Ministry is obligated to intervene,” Hermione ranted, pushing her bushy hair from her eyes as she stared hard at Draco. 

“Obligated?” Draco scoffed. “The Ministry prefers to not stick its nose in anyone’s business unless absolutely necessary. What makes you believe they’re actually going to enforce the legislation you got passed?” 

“Because that’s what they’re supposed to do!” Hermione snapped. “The point of a government is to—” 

“You misunderstand me, Granger,” Draco interjected but Ron cut him off. 

“Granger-Weasley,” Ron corrected, rubbing his chin as he stared down at the chessboard. “We’ve been married fifteen years now, Malfoy. Get it right, eh?” 

“You misunderstand me, Granger- _Weasley_ ,” Draco rectified. 

A smile tugged at Ron’s lips. 

“The Ministry passed your law on equal treatment for house-elves simply to appease you,” he continued. Hermione huffed angrily. “You’re rather persistent, wouldn’t you agree? They have no interest in house-elves actually being treated fairly. They just wanted you off their backs.” 

Harry laughed but stifled it when Hermione turned her glare towards him. 

“I will not _get off their backs_ now that they’ve passed the bill. There are still too many house-elves being mistreated! I’ve been working on this since Hogwarts. S.P.E.W was founded on the ideals—” 

Pansy let out a loud, pointed sigh but it didn’t stop Hermione’s tirade. Ron drug his eyes from the chessboard to glower at Draco. 

“Had to get her started on _spew_ , didn’t you?” Ron muttered. 

“As if we hadn’t heard enough about it already,” Harry added, half exasperated and half amused. 

Draco’s smirk grew at their irritation. He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, as he watched Hermione turn her frustration onto them. 

“It’s not _spew_ , it’s S.P.E.W.!” Hermione said, slamming her hands on the arms of the chair she sat in. “If you both used some of your influence to help me with the Ministry, we wouldn’t need to discuss this still! It’s been over twenty years since S.P.E.W. was founded! You were my first two members, if you’d be so kind to remember.” 

“Rather unwillingly,” Ron grumbled, finally moving a chess piece. Pansy breathed sharply through her nose as she studied his move. “Neville was the third person to sign up, wasn’t he? Go find him and have him throw around his influence. He can brainwash all the children at Hogwarts to knit hats for the house-elves like you had.” 

Laughing, Harry leaned over and threw an arm around Hermione, tugging her close. She fought hard not to relax at Harry’s touch but, after a moment, she allowed defeat. 

“You know we’re just joking, Hermione,” Harry said. “We want the Ministry to do their jobs too.” 

“I’m rather surprised you’d try to get Potter to use his influence at the Ministry to sway opinions. I thought you had too many morals for that?” Pansy remarked casually, eyes flickering up to Harry and Hermione. 

Hermione’s cheeks burned pink. 

“It’s for something _good_ ,” she mumbled. 

Draco looked away from the group, overly amused, and spied Ginny standing nearby. He jumped out of his seat and approached her, leaving Ron and Harry to fend for themselves. When he got close, he pressed a swift kiss to her cheek then one to the top of Gray’s head. 

“Proud of yourself?” Ginny asked, smiling despite herself. 

Draco shrugged. 

“Arguing with Granger is simply too much fun still,” he admitted. “And getting Potter and Weasley in trouble will forever be a favorite pastime of mine.” 

Turning his attention to his son, Draco lifted a hand and brushed some of Gray’s light strands from his eyes. 

“And what are you doing, Rigel?” Draco asked, calling Gray by his first name for the first time that Ginny remembered. “Don’t you want to play with your cousins?” 

Gray’s eyes lit up at the sight of his father but his tight on Ginny’s neck tightened at the mention of his cousins. 

“No, they’re not much fun,” he responded hastily. 

Draco looked over Ginny’s shoulders, letting out a low breath when he spotted someone Ginny couldn’t see. 

“How about your Uncle Charlie, then?” Draco questioned. “He can’t have told you about the new dragon eggs that had just hatched at the reservation yet?” 

Whipping his head around so fast Ginny feared for it, Gray looked for Charlie through the crowd. Right away, he began wiggling to get free from her hold. Her wine sloshed about in the glass and she hastened to put him down. 

“Where is he?” she heard Gray whisper to himself before he ran away. 

Draco grabbed a hold of her wine, a smirk lingering on his mouth, and she shook out her arms. Merlin, that boy was heavy despite how tiny he looked. She shot him a grateful look and took back the glass when her arms finally felt normal. 

“My mum’s upset you’re not wearing one of her jumpers,” Ginny informed him playfully. 

Draco reached out. His thumb caressed the sensitive skin of her neck and she inhaled through her nose at the unexpected contact. 

“Is she?” Draco asked, distracted as his eyes followed the path of his fingers, along her neck, then moving up to trace her jawline, then brushing her ear. 

He tucked away a stray piece of her hair. 

Ginny licked her lips but nodded. 

“She thinks you look great in yellow.” 

His eyes found hers and his smirk softened into a smile. 

“Well, I won’t deny that,” he mumbled. 

“How long has it been since you wore one of her jumpers?” Ginny teased. 

Lifting a shoulder, Draco appeared to be thinking. 

“The Christmas after Orion was born,” he answered hesitantly. “Your brothers mocked me endlessly over it. And it’s been locked away since.” 

“I wish I could remember that,” Ginny laughed, imagining what her brothers had said to Draco. 

She knew he hated being teased and she could only imagine what it had been like eight years ago, when the Weasley family and Draco were still getting used to each other. At least he had worn the jumper in a show of acceptance, though. 

Draco made a sound of agreement before swallowing thickly. 

A loud booming voice managed to dim the volume of the library briefly and distracted the pair from each other. Ginny and Draco turned to see who had arrived and Ginny let out a cry of surprise. 

It was _Hagrid_. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Ginny heard him say as the volume in the library began to creep up again. 

“Hagrid’s here?” she asked dumbly, too startled to move from her spot to go up to him. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Draco glance down at her. 

“Yes, he’s been coming the last few years,” he told her calmly. 

A strange feeling washed over her. It was a testament of how much Draco had changed throughout the years. Hagrid had arrived to spend Christmas Eve with them at their house… and Draco didn’t appear angry over it. 

Hagrid looked almost exactly as Ginny remembered, though his beard had a few strands of gray in it that she didn’t recall. The only thing she could reason was the giant blood in him slowed down his aging. In front of Hagrid now stood the Golden Trio, as Draco had dubbed them long ago, beaming up at their friend as he greeted them. Ron must’ve grabbed Lyra at some point for he was now holding her in his arms. Hagrid made a show of scooping the little girl up and tossing her into the air, her loud shrieks of joy echoing throughout the library. 

Ginny looked up at Draco, who turned his attention back to Hagrid. His lips were pressed together tightly but he seemed keen on not speaking anymore on the arrival of their newest guest. It was as though a stone had settled in her stomach as her eyes darted over her husband’s face. 

He had changed so much over the years. How much had been for Ginny? 

Draco had _hated_ Hagrid at Hogwarts. How many times had Ginny heard the tales of Draco attempts to get Hagrid fired? How many times had he laughed gleefully at a failing of Hagrid’s? Ginny could recall Draco’s horrible impressions of the groundskeeper during their meals in the Great Hall. He had wanted Hagrid to fail at every turn, had rejoiced when that horrid article by Rita Skeeter came out about Hagrid, had mocked him endlessly to the point that it was draining to witness. Yet here Hagrid was, playing with the youngest Malfoy heir, welcomed into a household that before would have gladly seen his death. 

Ginny looked around. 

Her family crowded the Malfoy estate. It had only been moments ago, before Draco became distracted by her arrival, that he had been lounging with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, irritating them as he had back at school, though the maliciousness was now gone from his words. Her mum, who Draco had cruelly mocked many times, absolutely adored him now. He even called her _mother_. 

“You’ve done so much to make me happy,” she realized. 

Draco turned away from the sight before him to Ginny in confusion. When he saw the sincerity on her face, he frowned. 

“Don’t be foolish,” he said dismissively. “Come, let’s find my mother—” 

She reached out and grabbed onto his wrist, stopping him. 

“I’m serious, Draco,” Ginny told him, tightening her grip. 

A single blonde eyebrow rose. 

“You’ve done so much,” she repeated. 

“Ginny,” he muttered, a flash of concern darkening his face. 

A wave of emotions washed over Ginny. Her whole family was here, all her closest friends, even Hagrid. They were dining and drinking and enjoying each other’s company at a man’s house who had felt ill will for each of them. He had only been a child, of course, but Ginny couldn’t ignore how extremely different he was from her last true memory of him. Draco had changed, he had grown, he had learned from his past… but had it been because they had fallen in love? Or had he started along that path long before they met again after Hogwarts? It didn’t matter, really, she supposed. 

All that mattered was that the main emotion on the verge of drowning her was _pride._

How had she not noticed before now what a great man Draco had become? 

“You’ve done much for me too,” he replied, his voice rough. 

But had she? As if sensing her reluctance, he reached up and brushed a finger softly over her bottom lip. 

“You welcomed Blaise into your life without a second thought,” Draco clarified, refusing to let her question herself. “You’ve visit my mother often, a woman you once despised being in the presence of. And you bring the children to her without her asking, knowing she isn’t one to send owls requesting their company. Before Potter was dating Pansy, you had already befriended her, without my asking. And, at your insistence, I agreed to work with Potter to reform Azkaban— and while you did that in honor of Sirius Black, it still…” 

He paused, struggling to find the right words. 

“It still helped _me_. And you knew it would.” 

“Come on, lovebirds,” a voice interrupted. 

Ginny looked away from her husband to George, who was accompanied by his young daughter, Roxanne. 

“Let’s go say hi to Hagrid, yeah?” George continued. 

He didn’t leave much room for argument. Nodding distractedly, Ginny let go of Draco and followed her brother towards Hagrid. Draco, however, didn’t come along. She didn’t have time to look for him, too lost in her thoughts, but she felt his absence. Before they reached Hagrid, George leaned down to murmur in her ear. 

“Sorry ‘bout that. Wasn’t sure if you two were about to start fighting or not.” 

Ginny blinked, focusing on her brother. 

“Fighting? What? No, of course not,” she replied. 

Before he could respond, however, they were in front of Hagrid. The large man had handed Lyra back to Ron as they walked up. His black beady eyes were sparkling as he spoke to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. George reached up and patted him on his moleskin overcoat, distracting Hagrid from the trio. 

“‘ello, Hagrid!” George called loudly. 

Hagrid immediately pulled George into his arms, hugging him tight. George laughed but, after a second, his laughter became strangled. 

“George Weasley!” Hagrid boomed. “How are yeh?” 

“Can’t—breathe—Hagrid—” 

Hagrid let George go and he stumbled away, into Harry. Then he saw Ginny standing to the side with Roxanne. The little girl let out a squeak, stepping behind her aunt. Ginny could feel her small hands grabbing onto the back of her jumper. 

“Ginny!” Hagrid cried, rushing forward. 

He wrapped his arms around her and Ginny let out a loud laugh. Her feet left the ground as he hugged her. 

When Ginny had been at Hogwarts, she hadn’t become friends with Hagrid for almost two years out of guilt over killing his roosters her first year and him being sent to Azkaban when he was falsely accused of reopening the Chamber of Secrets. Even now, her stomach clenched at the memory. Ginny wasn’t sure the guilt would ever leave her completely. But, after he had told her he had never blamed her for what had happened, she had spent many afternoons with Hagrid at his hut, feeding Fang food from the Great Hall that she had brought. When she had briefly dated Harry during her fifth year, she had spent more time with Hagrid than ever before. 

Seeing him now, older and surrounded by loved ones, calmed a deep part of her. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he repeated once he put her down. “Had ter go see Grawp, o’ course. He wasn’t happy I left.” 

Hagrid shrugged helplessly. Then he looked at Roxanne, who let out another squeak. 

“An’ who are yeh?” Hagrid asked. 

Ginny turned away when George stepped up to reintroduce his daughter and saw that, while Ron, Hermione, and Lyra had disappeared, Harry still remained. He opened his arms when their eyes met. 

“I promise I won’t lift you off the ground,” Harry told her. 

She smirked and walked up to him, sighing when they hugged. 

“Really outdid yourself this year,” Harry muttered softly. “This has been great.” 

Ginny leaned back, lifting her eyebrows. 

“Thank you, that’s what everyone’s been saying,” she said. “I don’t remember any of the other parties, of course, so I have nothing to compare it to. But I appreciate it.” 

Harry snorted. 

“How’s that going?” Harry asked, voice low. “Your memories?” 

Slightly uneasy, Ginny bit her lip. 

“Everything is coming back, I think. Just… very slowly.” 

Harry nodded, emerald eyes flashing with concern. But Ginny didn’t want to keep discussing her memory loss, not on Christmas Eve at a party, so she forced a smile on her face and looked away from Harry. 

“I think Parkinson gave up on waiting for Ron to come back,” Ginny pointed out. 

Pansy had begun playing chess with Hugo, Ron’s son. Tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, Hugo wore the same expression of intense concentration as Ron. Taking the hint, Harry nodded in agreement and inclined his head towards them. 

“I’ll go help her out, I suppose. If she’ll let me, that is.” 

And he left. 

Letting out a long breath, Ginny prepared herself for the onslaught of more family members wanting to talk. Everyone, though, seemed content where they were. She spied Orion with his cousins, Gray talking Charlie’s ear off about dragons, and Lyra in Ron’s arms. Draco was over with his mother and Andromeda, unaware of her gaze on him. Ginny looked away when someone stepped up beside her. 

“I didn’t realize what a pair you had both become,” Blaise remarked sarcastically, looking towards Draco. 

“Really, now, Blaise,” she murmured back, amused despite the blush that arrived at his words. “We’re married.” 

Blaise made a sound of amusement. 

“I’m happy…” he told her suddenly, his voice soft. “I’m happy that you’re both happy.” 

Ginny glanced up at him, a frown tugging at her lips. The memory of Draco and Blaise talking outside, when they hadn’t known she was home, came to surface but she pushed it away. It didn’t matter what they were discussing, not right now. 

“Me too,” she responded lightly. 

Turning towards her, Blaise spoke in a low tone. 

“Do you think the accident was a good thing?” 

A good thing? The idea of it being a good thing that she lost all her memories was laughable but Blaise’s expression was so serious she earnestly thought on the question. Divorce papers had been signed before she lost her memories, Draco had left the country when she had asked him to stay, she had thought he had cheated on her… But, now, all Ginny wanted was time alone with her husband, to get to know him better. All she wanted was to watch him with their children. To learn more. To fix things. 

“I suppose I won’t know till I remember everything,” Ginny said honestly. “Do you think it was a good thing?” 

He made a strange sound in his throat, one she couldn’t decipher. She allowed the moment to pass, though the idea was now stuck in her head. _Had_ the accident been a good thing? 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~ 

It was not long till the annual Christmas Eve Quidditch match was taking place, a tradition that Ginny didn’t remember at all. Charlie was the one who called people together for the game, once the food had digested enough in everyone’s stomachs. The children had ignored the call, though this year Teddy had excitedly asked if he’d be allowed to join the adults. Then, once the group was formed, everyone went to get the broomsticks they had brought with them or went to the closet to borrow one of Ginny and Draco’s. 

They were going to play a Quidditch game? In the dark? On a cold, winter night? 

Ginny watched the flurry of people silently, her thoughts whirling after Charlie’s announcement. She hadn’t been on a broom since the accident. The idea of playing Quidditch now, of getting onto a broom, made her head ache. Trying to convince herself it wasn’t fear that she was feeling, Ginny wore a large smile. 

Ugh, she hoped she was convincing because right now her stomach was clenched, making her feel like she had to run to the loo. Or maybe she wanted to run to the loo to hide away, hoping no one would notice her absence. 

Merlin, this was stupid. 

She was Ginny Weasley. Never before had she been afraid of flying, of falling, of getting hurt. But, nonetheless, a hesitancy raced through her blood. What if she fell again? What if someone knocked her a bit too hard and she couldn’t catch herself? What if something happened and she forgot everything again? What if— 

Draco appeared suddenly, or maybe he had been there all along and she just noticed him. Without a word, he pressed a broom into her hands, forcing her back to reality. His eyes swept her face, lingering at her mouth, which was pulled tight. 

“It’s not your preferred broom,” Draco spoke abruptly, turning her so she faced away from him. 

She moved easily at his touch, her attention darting down to the broom he had handed her. 

“That one is still at the stadium; you use it when interviewing players or watching teams during practice,” he continued casually, reaching around and clipping her cloak around her neck. “But you bought this one right after we had met. Still one of the best brooms on the market and you’re the only one here who has it. You won many games on this broom and practiced hard on it for years.” 

Fighting the urge to lean into his touch, Ginny allowed herself a second of enjoying his warm breath against her skin before he stepped away. She studied the broom in her hands; it looked well used but in good shape. If she had bought it soon after she had met Draco then the broom was almost ten years old. Running her hands along the wood, she tried to envision herself lapping a Quidditch stadium on this, tried to recall the cheers from fans after she had managed to throw the Quaffle past the Keeper. 

She looked up, clenching the broom tighter to her, before turning to look around the library. Most of her family had put on cloaks and begun to head outside. Hermione had put blue flames in several jars for the children to hold and keep warm with; Ginny could see the reflection of the dancing flames on the window when she glanced outside. 

Ginny saw Draco move from her peripheral vision and she faced him. His head was tilted and eyebrows perked slightly as he observed her. 

“You were made to be on a broom,” he informed her. “A natural, some would say.” 

“I know that,” she responded sharply, anger nipping at her unexpectedly. 

She took a deep breath, unsure of where her irritation was coming from. 

“What happened last week was an accident, Gin,” Draco said. 

“I _know_ that,” Ginny muttered hotly, hugging her broom to her as she eyed Draco warily. 

His broom was leaning against the chair beside them, allowing him to cross his arms over his chest and stare down at her. Draco half looked like he was ready to stop her from trying to run by him, as if she was going to try to escape. She scoffed at the idea. 

Ginny wasn’t that afraid. 

But she also had no desire to get on a broom. 

“I think everyone is waiting for us, then. It’d be rude if we kept them in the cold,” Draco said. 

Ginny licked her lips anxiously but gave a brave nod. When she tried to move, though, it felt like her legs had been hit with a jelly jinx. She’d really like to sit down and not go out there, thank you very much. But when she went to tell Draco this, he was already picking up his broom, his attention no longer on her. Hesitancy made her pause. 

“Unless you’re afraid, of course,” Draco drawled, his eyes flickering up and meeting hers once more. “My team hasn’t won the past two Christmases, so we’d much rather you sit it out, truth be told. No hard feelings, of course—” 

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Ginny said angrily before heading outside without him. 

She walked down the yard towards everyone. The light from the house helped brighten the grass, along with the jars of blue flames that the children held. Ginny fought down the random nausea that hit her as she stepped up beside Angelina. 

“Been waiting for this all night,” Angelina confessed excitedly once she noticed Ginny. “Best part of the holiday, I think.” 

Fred, who stood beside his mother, looked up at Ginny with wide eyes. 

“Are you going to do any tricks this year, Aunt Gin?” he asked eagerly. 

A weak smile worked its way to Ginny’s face and she shook her head.

“Probably not this year, no,” Ginny replied softly, reaching out to touch her nephew’s face. 

“Welcome one, welcome all, to our annual Christmas Eve Quidditch match.” Lee Jordan’s loud voice quieted the crowd. He was grinning widely as he waved for everyone to sit down. 

Anyone without a broom began to sit down in lawn chairs or on large blankets. Surprisingly, no one looked cold. 

“Young Teddy Lupin will finally be joining the game this year,” Lee continued. The children began cheering at this announcement and several of the adults were clapping and laughing. “As always, there’s no Snitch. This backyard is too bloody big for it and we want this game to end sometime within the next hour, so, Chasers and a Keeper to each team only! The Blast-Ended Skrewts haven’t won for—” 

“That is _not_ our name,” Bill interrupted loudly. 

“Yeah, those things were bloody horrible,” Ron agreed. “No offence, Hagrid.” 

Ginny saw Hagrid shrug happily and thought she heard him mutter, “Misunderstood, is all.” 

“Well, you’re all rather horrible, so I’d say the name fits well,” Angelina quipped. 

“Like I was saying,” Lee cut in, barely containing his laughter. “The Blast-Ended Skrewts haven’t won in two years. Hey, hey! If you win this game we’ll change your name back to whatever it was before.” 

“No one remembers,” Harry said. “It’s been too long.” 

Ron pushed Harry and he stumbled, laughing. 

“You’re a part of the losing team, then?” Ginny asked, turning to look at Draco when she felt his presence beside her. 

He didn’t look at her when he spoke. 

“My team is overrun with your brothers,” Draco responded. “Charlie, Bill, that oaf…” 

His eyes slid pointedly over Ron. Ginny’s eyebrows lifted. For a moment, the anxiety that had been with her since they had decided to play the game vanished. 

“I can only do so much,” he added. 

Ginny grinned. 

“You must be used to losing, though, I’d think?” she questioned cheekily. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed. 

“Let’s get to it then, eh? Keep the game nice and dirty. No rules, of course, because we’re not at Hogwarts anymore and we don’t have Hooch here looking over our shoulders! First team to 100 points wins the honor of champions and is allowed to open their presents first! Losers are subject to our ridicule until the next game!” Lee cried out enthusiastically, collapsing into a chair next to Hagrid. 

Ginny looked around as her family and friends mounted their brooms. Oliver and Harry were chatting excitedly as they rose into the air, followed by George, Angelina, and Teddy. Audrey, Percy’s wife, blew her husband a kiss before mounting her broom. Percy, after adjusting his cloak, soon followed. Ron was still on the ground, grumbling about being on the losing team, as he pulled on gloves. 

Draco gave her a cocky look. 

“You’ll be fine, Weasley,” he told her. “Now hurry up before I’m forced to push you off your broom once you’re up there for keeping us waiting.” 

Then, with a sharp grin, he climbed onto his broom and rose into the darkness of the night. Ginny followed him with her eyes, her stomach clenching in fear. Her palms were sweaty suddenly and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep a good grip on her broom. The idea of getting into the air, of playing Quidditch, seemed dangerous and stupid and she was rather surprised her mum hadn’t put a stop to this already. But when Ginny located her mum among the group she saw that Molly was surrounded by children, laughing merrily. Ron nudged her with his elbow and she jumped, not having realized he walked up. 

“Ladies first, Gin,” Ron told her, a knowing glint in his eyes. 

She nodded, more to herself than him. Then she straddled her broom and kicked off the ground. There hadn’t been a breeze throughout the day but cool air rushed through her hair now as she soared higher into the sky. When Ginny stopped her ascend she took a long, deep breath. Frost seemed to fill her lungs. But… It was as though the air had stilled the anxiety in its spot, so that while it remained pooled in her stomach it was no longer threatening to race through her bloodstream. 

Ginny let out a weak laugh, tossing her head back so that she could look up at the heavens. The clouds were mostly gone, revealing a dark paradise filled with purples and blues, dotted by stars that glowed white and yellow and pink. What had she been afraid of? She couldn’t remember now. Draco was right; she was born to be in the air. The grip her thighs had on the broom was loose but comfortable and she straightened her back, tossing her arms out to the side. 

Perfectly balanced, unbothered by the slight breeze, warm despite the chill. Why hadn’t she done this sooner? Ginny wasn’t sure she felt more like _herself_ before now with an old broom between her legs that had led her to victories she didn’t remember, surrounded by family that knew her better than anyone else, cheered on by friends she had grown up with. 

And Draco. 

He soared up beside her. His eyes traveled over her and she grinned, winking at him as she kept balance with her arms out on either side of her. 

“Not nervous anymore, then?” Draco asked, amused. 

Ginny’s grin widened. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Malfoy,” she teased. “I’m a natural. You said so yourself.” 

“Ah, the lies a husband will tell his wife in her time of need,” Draco muttered. 

Ginny laughed and the sound was swallowed up by the vast space around her, so that only she and Draco heard it. Then she leaned over, reckless off adrenaline, and grabbed Draco’s robes. Her fingers were bunched up in the cloth and she marveled at the feeling of the silk against her skin. Without much pressure at all, her broom flew closer to his. 

Her eyes darted over his face, taking everything in. Draco’s cheeks were beginning to turn pink from the night air, the tip of his nose red. His eyes sparkled mischievously. The stars twinkled behind him and, Merlin, he looked far too perfect to be _hers_. 

“You are a _good_ husband,” Ginny breathed before pulling him closer so she could kiss him. 

The warmth of his breath, of his lips, felt electric against her near frozen face and she briefly wondered at the way her blood raced, her body relaxed, her grip tightened. Then they heard someone yell that the Keepers were in place and they broke apart. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~ 

The Blast-Ended Skrewts had won the match, though everyone likened it to the fact that they had Teddy on their team and he was almost two decades younger than everyone else playing. Her body felt wonderfully sore, aching in a way that it hadn’t in ages, and when everyone went inside Ginny found it hard to leave the sky. Harry must’ve felt the same way, for he was one of the last in the sky with her. His eyes closed and head tilted back, he lingered in the sky until Pansy yelled for him to _“Bloody hurry up, Potter!”_. 

When they were back in the house, Yolly had hot chocolate and hot cider waiting for them, along with several bottles of butterbeer. The children circled the tree, sitting so closely together that their legs kept knocking into whoever was beside them. And the adults, much slower to move, took their time shedding their cloaks and cleaning up the children’s before finding couches and chairs to sit on. Everyone seemed to get bit with the same bug of sleepiness once they were all settled and warm again, eyes growing heavy and smiles growing wide. 

The winning team was allowed to open one present each first then the losing team, and the rest of the group, were allowed to open one. Most of the family had brought their gifts with them, so that the exchange was easier and no one had to worry about sending packages by owl. 

Once the winning team had opened their gifts, everyone else scrambled to find one of their own. Percy was closest to Ginny and handed her a small, thin present. She unwrapped it slowly, curled up beside Draco. It was a tiny book, covered in brown leather. Percy’s neat handwriting was on the inside of the cover. 

_To help sort your thoughts when on the go. To help remember some things you might have forgotten._

Ginny had kept several journals since her disastrous first year, more to prove that she could than anything else. While she had always liked writing, she had found expressing her thoughts out loud to someone she trusted was much more valuable to her. However, with how much her returning memory made her question reality, a journal was likely a good solution. The idea that he had thought of her, thought of her accident, warmed her. 

It was nearing ten p.m. when everyone began to pack up and leave. Many of the little ones had already begun to fall asleep. Gray was slumbering in Charlie’s lap, his hands curled in her brother’s shirt. Louis, Roxanne, and Fred were all napping beside the tree, using presents as pillows. Sleep poked at Ginny also, making her lazy in her attempt to say goodbye to everyone. Percy and his family left first, then Neville and Hannah, then Andromeda, Teddy, and Narcissa. Ginny was helping Fleur pack up some of the presents that hadn’t been opened when George announced his departure with Angelina and the children. 

Then, before she knew it, there was hardly anyone left. 

Ginny sat by the fire, smiling contently when Hermione rushed up to her. Hermione took a seat beside her, face bright. 

“Happy Christmas, Ginny,” she said quickly. “Ron took Rose and Hugo to get some leftovers, if that’s alright. But I forgot to give you this.” 

Straightening in her seat, Ginny watched as Hermione pulled her well-worn bag into her lap and began searching through it. A memory prodded at Ginny, sharp, and she winced as though someone had physically poked her. But no, no, it wasn’t that. She knew what was happening as the world around her blurred and twisted. 

_Hermione looked frazzled as she searched through her bag. Honestly, though, Ginny couldn’t blame her. She too felt more than a bit anxious as Hermione searched for the documents. Every few seconds Ginny glanced to the entrance of the café, hoping she wouldn’t see her mum. Both Ginny and Hermione had been running late, even after they agreed to arrive to the weekly lunch fifteen minutes early, making this process much more difficult._

_People chatted quietly around them, sipping their coffee, unaware of the panic setting in for the two women. Ginny threw a cautionary look around. She caught the eye of the barista and flashed her a bright smile. It must have looked strained, though, because the barista shot Ginny a worried glance before continuing her work._

_“Hermione, really, my mum is going to be here any minute,” Ginny hissed, looking to the entrance again._

_“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Hermione grumbled. “Ron had burst into the room and I hadn’t wanted him to see so I sort of shoved them into—aha! Here it is!”_

_Yanking something from her bag triumphantly, Hermione let out a cry of relief. It was as Ginny took hold of the papers in Hermione’s grip that the familiar bell over the entrance rang. Ginny looked to the door and blanched. Her mum and Fleur had just walked in, with Angelina close behind. Hermione noticed the look on her face and shoved Ginny’s hands away._

_“They’re the divorce papers, I’m sure of it! Put them in your bag. Quick!” Hermione snapped._

_Ginny fixed her face into a smile when she made eye contact with her mum and shoved the papers in her bag, not bothering to glance at them._

“It’s just a little gift for you and Draco,” Hermione muttered distractedly, eyes to the ceiling as she searched inside her bag for the present. 

But Ginny barely heard her, unable to believe how quickly the memory had come and gone. Hermione… Hermione had given her the divorce papers? Ginny had asked for the papers and… Hermione had got them for her. Hermione had _known_ about the divorce papers. The idea was so ludicrous, so crazy, that it took Ginny a moment to even process the thought. 

Hadn’t Hermione been the one reassuring her the other day that she was happy with Draco? Hadn’t she told Ginny that Draco loved her? Hermione had been the one who comforted her over Draco taking the children to Azkaban to visit Lucius. How was it possible that she was also the one to give Ginny the divorce papers? 

It didn’t make sense. 

Yet it was the truth. Ginny could remember the papers in her hands, Hermione’s desperate eyes when she realized the rest of the in-laws had arrived, the deep satisfaction of finally having what she had wanted. 

“Aha! Here it is,” Hermione cried out, the words familiar to Ginny. 

Ginny’s breathing was harsh as she looked at the tiny box wrapped in Christmas paper. When she met Hermione’s eyes, her hands shaking slightly as she reached for the gift, Hermione frowned. 

“Ginny, are you okay? You look— odd,” Hermione asked hesitantly. 

Ginny shook her head. 

“I just remembered—” 

“Mummy, did you see what Aunt Fleur got me?” Lyra came into view, holding a bright pink pot in Ginny’s face. “Do you like it?’ 

Ginny shook her head, Lyra’s interruption throwing off her rapid thoughts. 

“Lyra, not now, go show your father,” Ginny dismissed her daughter quickly, turning her attention back to Hermione. “You’ve acted like you didn’t know, I thought I was the only one. But you _knew_.” 

“Knew what?” Hermione questioned, her eyes wide in confusion. “You’re not making sense.” 

“About the papers,” Ginny snapped. 

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed and her mouth parted. 

“Mummy, that’s not _nice_ ,” Lyra’s sharp cry broke through Ginny’s anger and she looked away from Hermione. 

Her daughter’s lip was out in a full pout, her face flushed. Her large, brown eyes were filled with tears and Ginny sighed. Her sudden anger vanished, though her hands were still trembling as she reached for her daughter. Lyra’s arms were crossed over her chest and she was stiff as Ginny pulled her close. 

“I’m sorry, darling, I am,” Ginny murmured into her hair, lifting Lyra into her arms as she stood from beside Hermione. “Can I see it now?” 

Lyra shook her head no. Chewing the inside of her lip, Ginny glanced down at Hermione. Hermione looked puzzled, though it was clear her mind was working fast, trying to figure out what had just happened. 

“Sorry, Hermione,” Ginny muttered. “Really. I thought I had remembered something but, it’s just, I was just confused.” 

She was still confused, truth be told. But it was Christmas Eve and Lyra’s watery eyes reminded her too much of Orion’s when she had lost him at Diagon Alley. If Hermione had given her the divorce papers—no, not if, because she _had_ … If Hermione knew this whole time but hadn’t felt the need to tell Ginny then there was more for Ginny to work out than she thought. A quick chat with Hermione wouldn’t tell her everything she needed to know. 

Now wasn’t the time. 

But when was? 

Hermione nodded slowly and Ginny forced a smile. The arrival of Ron, Rose, and Hugo lightened the mood between the two women and Ginny sagged in relief. Draco followed behind her brother and his family, Gray still asleep in his arms. 

“—don’t want your mother to starve you tomorrow, of course,” Draco’s words drifted towards her. 

“I heard that, Draco,” Hermione said warily, her probing gaze finally leaving Ginny. “Come along, I think it’s time for bed.” 

Ron and the children rushed forward, heading towards the fire right away. As if it were his own house, Ron was already reaching for the tiny jar of Floo powder on the mantel. She saw Draco barely contain a scowl. 

“Happy Christmas, Ginny,” Ron said, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek then Lyra’s. 

He stepped into the fire with a firm grip on Hugo and disappeared with a shout after using the Floo powder. 

“Yes, Merry Christmas, Ginny, Draco,” Hermione echoed slowly, pulling Ginny in close for a hug. 

Before she pulled away, Hermione grabbed Ginny’s forearm in a light grasp, her breath quick when she whispered in her ear. 

“I expect an owl tomorrow.” 

Then she leaned back and took Rose’s hand. They, too, threw some powder in the flames, stepped into the green fire, and disappeared with a shout. When she glanced over at Draco, his eyebrows were perked in interest but he said nothing. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~ 

Lyra forgave her quickly, her smile bright once again and her eyes twinkling. It made the grip on her stomach loosen, just a bit, as she tucked the children into bed. Each child had passed out before Draco shut the bedroom door. Like the Ministry ball, it seemed Draco was a tad drunk as he stripped out of his clothes. 

“Does Blaise normally stay at his house on Christmas Eve?” Ginny asked distractedly, shrugging on a nightgown. 

Draco let out a loud huff as he collapsed on the bed. 

Ginny looked over at him, her eyes trailing up his long, pale legs, lingering on his chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the light playing tricks on her eyes but it looked like there were scars on Draco’s chest that she hadn’t noticed before. They were light, faded over time. When her gaze finally rested on his face, she saw that his eyes were closed, though his lips were twisted in a grin. 

“He doesn’t like the children waking him at five a.m.,” Draco responded, laughter evident in his tone. “He’ll be by around lunch, I’m sure.” 

After attempting to run a hand through her hair, and failing, Ginny crawled into bed beside Draco. He reached for her automatically, pulling her to him. 

“I really should force your brother to tell me where he gets his wine,” Draco mumbled tiredly. 

“Which one?” Ginny inquired, running her thumb along Draco’s jaw. 

He flinched at her touch initially before relaxing. His breath warmed her fingertips when she brushed them over his lips. 

“Bill,” he yawned. “Keeps saying it’s all he has over me, won’t tell me where… but I’ll find out…” 

Draco’s breathing was getting heavier and Ginny laid her head on her pillow as she watched him. He’d fall asleep soon, she knew. Elderberry wine always helped him sleep, which was why he never drank it unless it was a holiday. He didn’t want to tempt himself with the promise of finding easy sleep in a bottle. 

“Good night, darling,” Ginny whispered, once his breathing evened out and she was sure he was sleeping. 

She lay on the bed beside Draco, observing him, for longer than she realized. Her thoughts were muddled after the flash of memory. For once, Ginny attempted to pry further into her memories but it didn’t work. All she succeeded in doing was make her dull headache roar with life. 

None of it made sense. It just _didn’t_. Hermione had given her the divorce papers but had also comforted Ginny after the accident about her marriage with Draco. 

What was she missing? 

And for _her_ to be the one to ask for the papers, to have a friend talk to a lawyer for her, to not do it herself… She was a coward, there was no other way to look at it. Ginny Weasley was a coward. What had happened to her in the last decade? Yet… the pain, the horror, she recalled on the Quidditch pitch, right before her accident… 

Ginny shook her head. 

Draco wasn’t perfect, surely, but he didn’t deserve this. And, after tonight, Ginny knew that for certain. Draco deserved better. 

Seeing Draco with her family, her friends, forced Ginny to reevaluate their marriage yet again. How much, exactly, had Draco changed so that Ginny was happy? The past week Ginny had been flabbergasted over how much her family had come to accept Draco, to bring him in as their own. Only yesterday she had been with Harry on the cliffside, imploring him to explain why he wasn’t angry with her for marrying Draco when he had hated him. 

But she had never stopped to think of the many sacrifices Draco had made for their relationship. 

Draco had hated everything Ginny stood for, once upon a time. He had despised Harry, Ron, and Hermione growing up, to the point that he had almost grown obsessive with getting them in trouble. His father had attempted to have Hagrid relieved of his job multiple times, mostly at Draco’s insistence. Her parents were a constant source of entertainment for Draco, thrown into every stupid fight he ever had with Ron, mocked endlessly. When Draco was a part of the Inquisitive Squad, he had gleefully held her, Neville, Ron, and Luna captive until they were able to properly fight back. 

And while she could push most of his childhood bullying and hatred off onto youth and ignorance, it did not change the fact that now he welcomed those same people into his home, trusted them with his children, at the simple asking of his wife. 

It was a modest thing for a wife to expect of a husband that had grown up in a less hateful world. But Draco had been taught to loathe and mock and gloat. He had been taught to be prideful. Privilege was something he had never thought twice on, not until the war came. 

Yet here they were. Her mum kissed him on the cheek, worry hidden in the depths of her eyes as she asked over him. Her father embraced him like a son, a warm smile on his lips, despite the fact that years ago they were on opposite sides of the war. Each of her brothers shared inside jokes with Draco upon seeing him, lifting their children to Draco’s height so that they could properly greet each other. Hagrid had laughed when he finally spotted her husband, the memories of a young boy crying wolf during his Care of Magical Creatures class long gone. Even Neville, who had always despised Draco in a different way than the trio, had smiled welcomingly upon seeing Draco. 

But what had she done for him? 

Allowing Blaise into the Malfoy family was hardly anything of consequence. Though she could remember being annoyed at his constant presence at the house, she could also remember how much he had helped her when she needed him. He was one of Draco’s best friends, who viewed the children as his own. When she had issues with Draco, he was more than willing to give his thoughts on the situation, whether she wanted them or not. And Ginny _liked_ Blaise. In Hogwarts, she had always been bothered by him, yes, but that didn’t mean she had ever hated him. 

Draco pointed out her friendship with Pansy but that was hardly anything. The two women were friends and enjoyed each other’s company but Pansy had also snuck into the group by dating Harry. And she had grown too, less hateful and more watchful than she had been at Hogwarts. 

Perhaps Ginny had been forced to bend the most for Narcissa. The woman was cold and sharp, like ice. But it was a necessary relationship that Ginny had had to form. So she did. It wasn’t hard to imagine that she was willing to do it, particularly when she thought back on Harry’s words that if Narcissa hadn’t lied to Voldemort the war wouldn’t have ended, he would have likely died in the Forbidden Forest, that everything they knew would be gone. How could Ginny not befriend an unwilling hero, someone who had simply wanted to find her son during a war? 

No… No, the real test had been Draco’s father. And Ginny had rejected Lucius anytime he was brought up over the past ten years. She still threw Draco’s father’s past in his face whenever Draco wanted to take the children to see him. Ginny still made sure Draco knew how much she detested the man who raised him, who Draco certainly cared for. 

At Hogwarts, it had been blatantly obvious that Draco had craved Lucius’ praise. 

She couldn’t help but wonder if Draco had ever desired her approval of Lucius? The very least she could have done, after everything Draco had done for her, was go visit the grandfather of her children, the father of her husband. He had been the reason she had almost died all those years ago, yes, and the reminder of it was like salt in a wound. But he had also searched for Draco with Narcissa during the Final Battle. Lucius was a part of her children’s lives. He still raised Draco into the man he is today; whether because Draco strived to not be like Lucius, whether he learned to not make the mistakes of his father, she didn’t know. 

Ginny had denied Draco some part of his healing, some part of his comfort, by never seeing Lucius. 

A deep shame washed over her as she laid beside her husband. Was that part of the reason their marriage had begun to dissolve? Her selfishness? Hermione _had_ retrieved the divorce papers for Ginny, so Ginny had just as much to do with this as Draco did by signing them. But how did she fix it? How did she prove to Draco that she cared as much as he did? 

It was Christmas Eve and in a few hours the children would likely wake up, their faces glowing in excitement at the prospect of presents and Santa Claus and magic. Her husband was sleeping deeply and peacefully for the first time in days. And she… she couldn’t help but want to leave the house. Anxiety was boiling inside of her while her mind searched desperately for something, something, _something_. 

She felt like she couldn’t breathe and she sat up, her head rushing from the sudden movement. Groaning softly, Ginny put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. 

Ginny had to get out of here. 

She wanted to wake Draco and tell him she was leaving. But what was there to tell him? That the house had simply become too much? That after spending Christmas Eve with him and the children, her family and his family, their combined friends, the idea of losing it all was too overwhelming? How had she ever decided to get the divorce papers? 

She couldn’t sit still. The idea of staying in bed, of watching Draco as he slept didn’t seem right. There had to be somewhere she could go, tonight, right now, that would help her sort her thoughts. She had to make it better somehow. 

Ginny slid off the bed, guilt coursing through her veins as she glanced back at Draco. Just this morning she had imagined spending Christmas with her children and husband happily, of the children waking them early to open presents… and she had been excited. Now Ginny couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. 

Why? 

Because… A watery laugh escaped her lips and she hurriedly covered her mouth, moving further away from the bed. 

Because she cared more for Draco than she wanted to admit. 

Because she loved what they had together, what they were together, what they had created together. She loved _him_ , in a sharp, dizzying way; it was fresh and new, the type of love that you realized could lead to great things, but it was also a decade old, buried deep in her bones, as if it had been there all along. 

Rushing into the bathroom, Ginny took a shuddering breath and gripped the sink, wondering if she was about to be sick. 

Ginny had known she loved Draco, before the accident. But to feel it now, this intense _ache_ that refused to let go of her, a rush of feeling that was more than she had ever felt for Harry, startled her. He wasn’t a crush, he wasn’t a friend, he wasn’t just the father of her children, he was so much _more_. Suddenly the dismay she had felt when she saw that he had signed the divorce papers made sense because, bloody hell, who else would Ginny be with except Draco? 

Looking up from the sink, she caught sight of her reflection and flinched. Her mouth was pulled tight and there were shadows darkening the soft skin under her eyes. Ginny had always been pale but now her freckles were a sharp contrast against her skin. 

She had to leave this house. She had to get out of here. She had to find somewhere she could breathe and think and _fix this_.

And, with sudden clarity, she knew what she was going to do. 

Ginny was going to Azkaban to visit Lucius Malfoy. Right now. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek, sorry for the long wait! Honestly, I'm horrible at posting on this site but I'm going to try to be better. There are two more chapters ready to be posted after this one, so look out for the next one in about a week! Thanks so much, please review!


	11. Day Eight, part one

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Not once during Ginny’s rush to leave her house did she feel any uncertainty. No thoughts came to mind that begged her to pause, to think about what she was doing. One moment she had been staring down at Draco, tenderly looking over his sleeping form, and the next she was rushing downstairs, wand clasped in her hand and eyes blazing. 

She was going to Azkaban. There was no time to hesitate. It was Christmas Eve, almost Christmas day, and she had only a few hours until her children would stir from their sleep and come running into their parents’ bedroom. If Ginny was not home by then, sleeping beside her husband, the panic that would spread through their house would be catastrophic.

Of course, Ginny had realized rather quickly that she had no idea how to actually get to Azkaban. Surely, somewhere in the darkness of her mind, Ginny knew how to get to the prison. After all, Draco had a large presence there; he likely had an office, maybe even a secretary who did his bidding. It would be impractical to assume that Ginny had never gone to visit Draco at work. But the memory didn’t come to Ginny, despite the few minutes she took to close her eyes and rummage through her brain in the shadows of the foyer. 

Waking Draco up and asking him for instructions on how to get to Azkaban was out of the question, obviously. The whole point of this was to show Draco that she cared, that she wanted what was best for them and their family. But if she couldn’t go to Draco, who could she wake up and ask? 

Harry would know best, after Draco. But where was Harry right now? At his flat or at Shell Cottage with Pansy? Did Ginny have time to go from one spot to the other, looking for him? And that was also ignoring the fact that Harry didn’t have the best history of keeping Ginny’s secrets. Once she left, would Harry send an owl to Draco, informing him of his wife’s activities? There was Hermione, who knew almost everything and who would be more willing to keep Ginny’s secret. But after their last interaction, and the memory that came along with it, Ginny wasn’t sure her sister-in-law was the best choice. Even if she was, what was Ginny going to do? Go to Ron’s house, wake up his wife, get directions to Azkaban, then hope for the best?

No, no, that wouldn’t do.

It left Ginny with only one option, really. Stepping outside, she took a moment to inhale the brisk air. It filled her lungs, cool yet comforting. Then she Disapparated, intent on finding the one person who might help her. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Knocking on the wooden front door , Ginny bit her lip anxiously. It was almost midnight and there was absolutely no one on the streets of London. Still, Ginny found herself looking up and down the street every few seconds as she waited for the occupant of the house to wake up. She wasn’t expecting anyone to pop out and scream _gotcha!_ but she was aware that each second that passed brought her closer to being caught missing from her bed. 

She gave the door another couple sharp knocks when there was no immediate response.

Being out in the silence of the streets, where the only sound was the whispers of the trees stirring, allowed doubt to creep into her mind; , something she was trying to fight. But in the silence, the thoughts brewed.

This could be the completely wrong thing to do. Draco could hate her for visiting Azkaban without her having told him first. He could hate her for going on Christmas Eve, abandoning his side and their children to sneak away. Ugh, she almost hated herself for doing it, now that she had left. There was a chance that Draco wouldn’t understand why she had wanted to see Lucius. She didn’t even know the history between her and Draco when it came to Lucius; she didn’t remember every fight they had about his father and Draco’s visits to the prison.

This was taking a leap of faith… that could end everything.

After all, this visit could go horribly. Lucius could see her and instantly send her away. He could tell Narcissa about her midnight visit before Ginny had a chance to tell Draco, and then everything would be out of her hands. 

“What the bloody hell, I said no carolers—Ginny?”

Blaise blinked owlishly at Ginny, eyes protruding in a way that reminded her of Luna. He opened his mouth, closed it, then reached out and grabbed onto her forearm. She smiled hesitantly at his touch.

“Sorry. I know it’s late.”

“Late? What are you—get in here. Are you okay? Are the kids okay? Is Draco—”

“We’re fine, yeah, of course,” Ginny rushed to say after he pulled her into the house.

He spun her around to face him, worry painting his features. It was obvious she had woken him. Wrapped up in a robe, wearing ridiculous pink slippers, Blaise blinked away sleep as he tried assessing her. 

“You’re okay?” he asked again.

She nodded.

“But you’re here. On Christmas Eve.”

“Technically it’s Christmas Day,” she responded, nodding towards the clock that hung in his entranceway.

A frown twisted his lips.

“Did you and Draco fight?” Blaise questioned.

“No. Look, I—I need a favor.”

Any sleep that lingered on Blaise’s face disappeared abruptly. He released his hold on her and stepped back, eyebrows furrowing. She wasn’t sure what he could possibly be thinking right now. Ginny had changed quickly from her pajamas back into her outfit from the party, but she hadn’t bothered with makeup or brushing her hair. And here she was, standing in his entryway with no warning, asking for a favor on Christmas. 

“You know, you could’ve Flooed here,” he told her. 

“I assumed,” she answered lightly. “I couldn’t remember your address. For whatever reason, it’s easier for me to think of a place and Apparate.”

A tiny smirk replaced the frown that marred his face.

“Ah, yes, forgot about that. Does Draco know you’re here asking me for favors?” Blaise paused. “Did you forget to buy him a Christmas present? I’m sure I could think of a few nonmaterial things he would enjoy.”

Despite the nonchalance of his tone, Ginny knew Blaise’s mind was rapidly processing the situation. She bit her lip and stepped further into his house. It forced him to move with her, though the loud sigh he let out informed her that he wasn’t happy about this. 

“You can’t tell Draco I’m here.”

Ginny looked up at Blaise in time to see the emotions clear from his face. 

“Ginny…”

“I know,” she interrupted, waving her hands to stop him from continuing.

If there was one thing Ginny truly remembered from the past ten years, it was that Blaise hated being dragged into the middle of Draco and Ginny’s relationship. Despite the fact that he had a permanent spot in their family, Blaise was still _Draco’s_ good friend and rarely wanted to go against him. But he was her only choice right now.

“I know that I’ve probably said that to you before. I know that you probably dread these moments. But, look, okay, I don’t remember any of the other times I’ve asked you not to tell Draco something. And I wouldn’t ask you to keep something from him now without it being serious.”

Blaise inclined his head, giving her permission to continue speaking.

“I just… I know I’ve really messed stuff up the past few years. And I think I’ve found a way to fix things. But I need your help with it.”

“Fix what things?”

“My marriage, for starters.”

A flash of surprise flitted across Blaise’s face, tearing apart the blank mask he wore. Blaise went to speak but, once again, nothing came out. It was a topic they never discussed; Blaise had no reason to believe that Ginny knew something had been wrong with her marriage before the memory loss. 

“What have you remembered?” he asked.

“Enough,” she replied shortly. 

There wasn’t time to get into everything that she had remembered.

“I heard you and Draco talking, earlier, when you were both outside,” Ginny said.

“You heard us?” 

Blaise seemed torn between amusement and dismay. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. 

“And you decided now’s the time to bring this up?” Blaise narrowed his eyes at her pointedly as he spoke.

Without permission, a smile brightened her face.

“There was no point to bring it up any earlier. You were mad at me, anyway, so there were more important things on my mind. Blaise… I know that things weren’t right between me and Draco before the accident, but I know things are better now. I—” Ginny inhaled sharply through her nose. “I really care for him.”

“You care for him?” he echoed.

Her cheeks warmed under his dubious stare. A flash of memory came to her then; the dizzy feeling that had washed over her when she realized she loved Draco. She cleared her throat, aware of the knowing smirk that curled on Blaise’s lips.

“Yes. I want to prove to him that I want this to work between us. Memories keep coming back so quickly and randomly, and… I want to make sure when everything comes back that he knows I care about him.”  
“He knows that.”

The three words were spoken quietly, so quietly that Ginny would’ve been uncertain Blaise even spoke them if she hadn’t seen his mouth move. Her stomach squeezed and tears blurred her vision. She nodded, taking a moment to wipe at her eyes.

Their conversation seemed to resolve something for Blaise. He stepped up to her, taking a hold of her hands. His touch was kind and familiar; she relaxed instantly as she looked up at him.

“How can I help?” Blaise asked.

Ginny licked her lips.

“I want to go to Azkaban to see Draco’s father.” She stopped, hesitating. Then, “Tonight.”

Blaise went as still as a statue. If it weren’t for his fingers squeezing her own slightly, she would’ve thought she had somehow hexed him. This wasn’t good. 

“Blaise?”

Her call snapped him out of it. He let out a sharp laugh but didn’t drop her hands.

“Really, what do you need me to do?” 

“I’m serious,” Ginny persisted. “I want to go right now. I need you to tell me how to get there.”

The ticking of the clock was the only thing Ginny could hear in the silence as Blaise’s gaze roamed her face. Then he dropped her hands and tilted his head.

“How is seeing Lucius going to help anything with Draco right now? You realize he’s not fond of his father?” 

A wave of relief washed over Ginny. She hadn’t been sure Blaise would even listen to her when she first breeched the subject of going to Azkaban. For him to be questioning her, not her sanity but whether this was something Draco would want, meant everything.

“I know I’ve never been before to see Lucius. I know I’ve always given Draco hell for taking the children to see him. And—and I don’t want to see him, I don’t, but I think it will mean a lot to Draco to know I went out of my way to… to accept Lucius.”

“To accept Lucius.”

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Stop repeating everything I say. You can’t deny that Draco’s always looked up to Lucius. I, I don’t know, I just think if I were to go and learn more about him and… I’m not sure I could forgive him, but, maybe, we could have a civil conversation... I think Draco would like that. I think Draco would like if I started going to these visits with him and the kids. But I need to do it alone the first time.”

“On Christmas Day?”

She nodded slowly. Uncertainty nipped at her, and she broke eye contact, looking instead at the ground. A dull ache pulsed through her head, in time with the ticking of the clock. It reminded her both of the minutes passing by and the headache that had plagued her since before she left the house.

“It’s been over a week now since the accident. I feel like I’m running out of time.”

When she looked up, their gazes locked. Understanding dawned on Blaise, loosening the hard press of his lips and the sharp dive of his eyebrows. She knew Blaise was recalling what Draco had said earlier in the day, the conversation which Ginny had listened in on.

_“I’m_ _trying_ _but time is running out. I can feel it. I can see it, when I look at her—”_

Then he cleared his throat and nodded.

“Let me change.”

Blaise had already started up the stairs, his slippers softening the sound of his footsteps as he made his way up.

“Oh, no, Blaise! You don’t need to come! I only need to know how to get there!” Ginny yelled up the staircase when his form disappeared from view.

She could hear him easily, though. He made a loud scoffing sound. 

“Not coming? Are you mad? When Draco finds out about this, I’m not about to let him know I let you wander off to Azkaban by yourself—” His voice became muffled. Ginny could only assume he was pulling a shirt on or off. “—Of course, he might kill me either way. You two are absolute nutters, you realize. Who thinks going to Azkaban is going to prove _anything_ to their significant other? Though, I suppose, not many people have parents locked away—”

His words became louder, and then Ginny heard him coming down the stairs. When Blaise appeared before her, the robe and slippers were gone, replaced with an outfit similar to her own, except all black. An eyebrow rose as he came to stand beside her.

“We’ll have to Apparate to the main office and hope someone is there to open the network so we can get to Azkaban,” Blaise informed her briskly. “It is Christmas, though. And past midnight. You didn’t think this through very well, did you?”

The fact that Blaise was coming with her—that he had accepted everything she had said, had taken the time to listen to her instead of rushing to write to Draco—made Ginny move without thinking. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. Blaise sighed, hugging her back. 

“Come on, then. We’ve got a prison to break into.”

“That’s bit dramatic, don’t you think? We’re not breaking into anything,” Ginny muttered as she stepped back.

“A bit dramatic, yes, but it sounded good.”

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

They used Side-Along Apparition to get to the main office. It was a rundown building, surrounded by Muggle shops. She had no idea where they were. Were they still in London or further away? Walking closer to the building, Ginny noticed signs in the front windows stating that the business had declared bankruptcy and was awaiting government action. 

Blaise looked at Ginny from the corner of his eye, and she nodded, mostly to herself. Though she was determined to get to Azkaban, apprehension was growing inside of her. It didn’t matter, though; Ginny had made her choice. Stepping forward, Ginny tugged at the front door. It opened easily.

They shared a look before Blaise reached over to hold the door open for her. Ginny rolled her eyes and a sharp grin came to his lips.

“Ladies first,” he told her, waving her in.

Once Ginny entered the building, a wave of heat hit her. She was thankful for it; a deep chill had settled in her bones, though she had a feeling it had little to do with the temperature outside. If this all went wrong, if Draco was stirring from his sleep right now… Ginny raised a hand to her forehead, applying pressure to the persistent throbbing as she forced the thoughts away.

The front doors opened to something akin to a waiting room. Ginny immediately thought of St. Mungo’s lobby. Chairs lined the walls, separated only by the occasional table that held various magazines or children’s toys. The wall adjacent to the chairs had three fireplaces built in; there were no fires lit in the grates. A large desk, likely where the receptionist would normally sit at, was on the far side of the room. _Visitor Center_ was spelled out in elegant, gold letters across the front.

She looked away, back towards the sitting area.

Picture frames adorned the walls. Walking further into the room, she saw that some frames held pictures of strangers, all smiling and waving. At the bottom, she read the plaque that named them as various employees of the prison. Other frames were of employees with prisoners, talking or reading together, nodding and in general agreement with each other. The plaque at the bottom of each frame mentioned the rehabilitation programs in place: reading and educational programs, programs to help with reentry into the wizarding world, programs where older prisoners offered guidance to younger prisoners under the watchful eye of an employee.

One picture was of Draco, unsmiling as he led a group through a room filled with prisoners. He was pointing and talking to the people beside him. Her eyes traveled over his face; he looked tired .   
Ginny was so distracted by the photograph of her husband she didn’t notice that someone had arrived in the reception area until she heard a soft gasp. Jumping, Ginny turned quickly and knocked into Blaise, who had been following behind her closely.

A young woman stood behind the desk. A dark hijab showcased a familiar face that made Ginny almost drop her wand.

“Asma?” Ginny called hesitantly.

Asma Rahman had been a younger girl when Ginny went to Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw. She had joined Dumbledore’s Army during Ginny’s sixth year and had helped graffiti the Entrance Hall beside Ginny and Neville a handful of times. Honestly, Ginny hadn’t thought of her in ages. But it was obvious Asma remembered Ginny well; she rushed from behind the desk, hands stretching out to clasp Ginny’s own.

“Ginny!” she cried out. “I wasn’t sure when I’d be seeing you next!’

She let go of Ginny, examining her quickly. Ginny’s mind whirled. What was Asma talking about? Did they see each other often?

“I remembered, back in June, that you said you’d be back during Christmas. I hadn’t been sure when, though—” Asma stopped abruptly, as her eyes fell on Blaise.

Something strange passed over Asma’s face and she took a step away from Ginny. Ginny frowned at the change in Asma’s demeanor. Asma had been saying that Ginny told her she’d be back during Christmas… back where? Back here? 

Her heart raced and she looked up at Blaise; he looked as confused as she felt. 

“So,” Asma started, drawing the word out. “I, uh—”

It was obvious Asma wasn’t sure what to say now that she saw Blaise. Ginny acted on instinct. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Blaise’s arm and smiled widely.

“Asma, have you met Blaise Zabini? He’s one of my dearest friends. He offered to accompany me tonight. I’ve been feeling a little under the weather.”

The lie came easily, but her breath caught in her throat as the last word left her mouth. Asma made it seem as if Ginny had planned on coming back to this office around Christmas. She hadn’t even been surprised to see Ginny show up in the middle of the night! It wasn’t hard to deduce that, for whatever reason, Ginny was supposed to be here right now. Blaise, however, wasn’t supposed to be with her.

Ginny could only hope that Asma believed her lie.

Finally, after a long moment, Asma gave a hesitant nod.

“I remember you from Hogwarts,” she allowed. “You’ve… never brought someone else with you before.”

Ginny forced the smile to remain on her face.

“I know. I should’ve let you know—”

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” Blaise cut in, flashing a handsome smirk at Asma. “I’ve met you here before, though, with Draco. Haven’t I?”

Asma scanned his face before nodding. Her face relaxed as she smiled.

“Yeah, I think so. At last year’s employee event. Mr. Malfoy had brought you as his guest, hadn’t he?”

Blaise’s smirk grew.

“Yes, of course. You’ve worked under him for years now, haven’t you?” Before she could answer, Blaise inclined his head towards the reception desk. “We should get on with this, shouldn’t we? Time is of the essence.”

Asma laughed and agreed. She led them over to the desk and they followed a few steps behind her.

“You’re right. That is one of the higher-ups’ favorite mottos around here. I mean, I get it, of course. Each visitation is slotted for a specific time to make sure there are never any attempts at—”

“What are you playing at?” Ginny barely heard Blaise’s words over Asma’s rambling.

“What do you mean?” she whispered back, glaring at him. “I’ve never been here before!”

“That’s clearly a lie.”

Ginny faltered, unsure of what to say.

“She says you told her back in June you’d be here for Christmas. Why were you visiting here without Draco—” 

Blaise cut off abruptly when Asma stopped speaking. Both Ginny and Blaise put on large smiles when she turned to face them.

“Your time slot isn’t usually for another half hour but since you’re here now I’ll bump it up. Not like many people are visiting Lucius Malfoy this time of night.”

Asma had stepped behind the reception desk as she spoke. Pulling out her wand, she waved it silently several times. Ginny wasn’t sure what Asma was doing from where she stood. After a moment, Asma cleared her throat and pointed distractedly behind Blaise and Ginny. Glancing over her shoulder, Ginny saw that one of the three fireplaces was now lit.

“That’ll take you over. The guard will be receiving notice that you brought Mr. Zabini with you, but he won’t be allowed very far, of course. I’ll see you when you’re done, then?”

Ginny wasn’t sure what to say but it didn’t matter. Blaise had pressed his hand into the small of her back and began to lead her towards the lit fireplace. They didn’t bother looking at each other as they left the desk, all too aware of Asma’s eyes on their backs. Without hesitation, Blaise entered the fireplace. The green flames licked at him as he turned to Ginny. Meaningfully, he slowly spoke.

“Azkaban Visitor Entrance.”

He disappeared in a flash.

Ginny went to follow him but stopped. She looked over at Asma, who had picked up a magazine and was flipping through it.

“Asma?” Ginny called.

The woman looked up, automatically smiling.

“Draco doesn’t mind… all of this?” Ginny asked, twisting her hands in front of her.

Perhaps Ginny had read the situation wrong with Draco. Maybe she had been to Azkaban before, by herself, and he knew she preferred to go alone. Perhaps he had even told her it was best to visit Lucius without him being there. It didn’t make sense and it didn’t settle right in Ginny’s stomach but she was half desperate for Asma to agree that, of course, Draco didn’t mind. 

Asma laughed in surprise.

“If it were any other prisoner, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind too much,” Asma replied. “Go on, Ginny, before the network closes.”

Fuck.

Ginny stepped into the fireplace, her nails digging into her palms as she balled her hands into fists.

Fuck. This wasn’t her first time visiting Lucius Malfoy at Azkaban. It wasn’t her first time doing this and Draco didn’t know about any of the visits and… Her head raged as dread washed over her.

“Azkaban Visitor Entrance.”

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

When Ginny stumbled out of the fireplace, she almost tumbled to her knees. She felt nauseated and it had nothing to do with the journey through the Floo. Ginny had visited Lucius before. This wasn’t her first time. Was it purely coincidence that she wanted to go to Azkaban tonight—during the time that Asma had been expecting her? Was that possible? No, of course not. It was more likely that, somehow, her mind had been pushing her in this direction. 

Blaise caught her before she could hit the ground, straightening her. His gaze was piercing as he looked her over but there was concern twisting his lips also.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

Ginny looked around, breathing out shakily. They were in a small room, which only contained four chairs pushed against a wall, a door, and a man who sat in a chair beside the door. She looked over the man, who was old and seemed as though he was just woken from a nap, before she met Blaise’s eyes.

“No,” she admitted. “Blaise, what does this mean?”

Blaise shook his head.

“It means you haven’t been very honest with Draco,” he replied slowly. “If you go, if you go to see Lucius, you’re just… you’re following some path you’ve already gone down. Ginny, you’ve _been_ here before. This isn’t your first time—”

“Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am?” The guard at the end caught their attention. “You’re going to cut into your timeslot. I suggest you hurry along now. The gentleman will be here when you’re done.”

Inhaling shakily, Ginny stepped away from Blaise. She couldn’t ignore his eyes burning her flushed face , but she tried her hardest as she stepped around him and towards the guard. Blaise was right, of course. By doing this, Ginny was following a path she had already taken. But it was a path she didn’t remember, and the curiosity overwhelmed her to find out why she had decided to continue visiting Azkaban without Draco’s knowledge—for this had to be the second time, at least.

The guard stood from his seat as she approached and held out his hand expectedly. When Ginny stared blankly, he let out a loud sigh.

“Wand.”

Ginny fought the natural instinct to take hold of her wand and run away. It was unnatural for a witch to be without her wand. And in Azkaban? She shivered. But, when she remembered how much time she was wasting, Ginny grabbed her wand from inside her cloak and presented it to him. The old man mumbled something, and then raised his hand into the empty space beside him. Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched his movements. It was as though there was an invisible cabinet beside him and he was opening the drawers of it. 

When he lifted her wand and dropped it, it disappeared into thin air. Ginny’s jaw dropped in alarm but no sound came out.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered. “Wand will be here when you’re done with your visit.”

The old man reached behind him without looking and pressed his wand to the door. It was then that Ginny realized it wasn’t a normal door like she had originally believed. There was no doorknob to grab onto; there seemed to be no real way to open it. As the thought crossed Ginny’s mind, the door suddenly disappeared, just as her wand had done.

Ginny stepped through the doorway, which led to what appeared to be an elevator. She took a deep breath and turned around. Across the room, she saw Blaise watching. She looked away, shame washing over her. 

Even Blaise hadn’t known about her past visits to Azkaban. 

The door reappeared, blocking Blaise from view. With a jolt, the elevator began to move, though Ginny had no sense of whether she was going up or down. When the elevator came to an abrupt stop, the door disappearing a second later, Ginny almost ran out. She froze when she felt eyes on her.

Two guards stared at her. They stood beside a door.

“No one likes that elevator,” the female guard told her, trying not to smile. 

“That’s sort of the point of it, ain’t it?” the other guard, a man, replied. Then, “Come along. I’ll take you to the prisoner.”

The man and woman pressed their wands to the door and it clicked open. When the man went through the doorway, Ginny followed. There were doors on every side and an empty chair beside each door. The corridor was well lit, making the yellow paint on the wall almost blinding. 

Yellow? Really? Who chose that color? 

After a minute of terse silence, the guard stopped in front of a door. He pressed his wand to the door before taking a seat in the chair beside it. Ginny could hear the locks being turned from her spot in the corridor; it reminded her of Gringotts and the many charms and locks their vault doors have . When the sound stopped, the handle of the door turned. Glancing at the guard, who seemed almost bored, then back at the door, Ginny ran her hands self-consciously over her jumper. Then she opened the door.

The room was dark; the light that spilled in from the hall only lit up a section of it . It did little to ease the worry that filled her. All she could see was the floor—which was either cement or a dull, gray tile—and a sliver of the wall—which was white and plain. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat as she hesitated in the doorway. She could feel the guard’s eyes on her, though, and knew if she didn’t want to raise any more suspicion she had to go in.

She entered the room completely. The door swung shut behind her, closing with a quiet click. Ginny knew, without a doubt, if she looked for a doorknob to escape she wouldn’t find one. 

This was it. She had wanted to come to Azkaban, she had wanted to see Lucius Malfoy, she had wanted to prove to Draco that she cared for him—and here she was. In a dark cell, unable to tell if the man she loathed to call her father-in-law was right in front of her or not. As that thought raced through her mind, cloaking her in fear, several lanterns that hung on the walls came to life.

Startled by the sudden light, Ginny jumped, her hand pressed against her chest as she quickly searched the area.

But… no one was in the room with her. The room was small and plain. There were several chairs scattered about, but they were as plain as the white walls and cement floors. If this was a cell, Ginny was partially worried that the prisoners were being mistreated for how much it was lacking. More importantly, if this was a cell, Ginny wondered where, exactly, her father-in-law was. He wasn’t hiding behind any of the chairs. As there was nothing else in the room other than the chairs and the lanterns, she wondered if she was in the wrong place. 

The idea of opening the door and asking the guard outside was unappealing enough that Ginny sat in one of the chairs with a sigh. Running a hand over her face tiredly, her mind drifted once again to the information she had learned from Asma. What had she been thinking before her accident—

“Daughter,” a voice called.

Ginny almost screamed. She knew that voice, despite the light, mocking lilt . But—but there was no one in the room with her. 

It was then that a ripple went through the wall she was facing. Ginny stared in wonder as another ripple appeared. 

“Tell me,” Lucius’ voice ordered as the wall in front of her began to disappear. “What was the weather like today?”

She couldn’t help staring in amazement. The wall was completely gone, and now she could clearly see into the cell that held her father-in-law. Tiny but well kept, the cell was homier than Ginny expected . There were several shelves that held books. A small desk with a chair where Lucius could write or read by candlelight was pushed against a wall. And, of course, there was a twin-size bed on the opposite side of the cell. On it sat Lucius Malfoy, his face turned towards her. Ginny wondered if she had startled him by arriving unannounced, if he had been laying down for bed when he was abruptly informed of a visitor.

He readjusted himself on the bed so he was facing her completely and Ginny fought the urge to lean away from him. His silver blonde hair was still long but wasn’t pulled back from his face like Ginny had seen when she was younger. It was clear that Azkaban had aged him, despite all of Draco’s attempts to make it less of a torture chamber and more of a rehabilitation center. Heavy wrinkles decorated his forehead. There were wrinkles by his mouth also, as if he were constantly pulling his lips into a frown.

But he was still, without a doubt, the man she remembered from Flourish and Blotts, fighting with her father. He was still the man who had given her a diary that he knew would likely kill her, still the man who had molded Draco into who he was today, still the man who had fought till the end for Voldemort.

Ginny forced herself to take a deep breath. She knew that the wall was still there, that there was no way for Lucius to leave his enclosure. But it was deceiving to see nothing blatantly stopping him from approaching . Tilting her head, she saw a flash of light, as if the flames had reflected off glass.

It helped her relax.

“Lucius Malfoy,” she murmured, hating the awe that colored her words.

Lucius frowned.

“Answer my question.” 

Ginny hesitated .

“It was… nice,” she began but stopped when darkness clouded his face.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

“Surely you know a better word than nice,” Lucius hissed. “Have you forgotten your whole vocabulary so quickly? Describe it to me.”

She fought the urge to bare her teeth in a snarl. Ginny wasn’t here to fight with him. Straightening in the chair, Ginny forced her eyes away from his and looked out the tiny slit he had for a window. There was no way Lucius could see what it looked like outside from that window. Questioning her on the weather was the only way he would ever know what it was like outside. If she didn’t describe it well, he would be forced to make it up himself, which she was sure he did each day he didn’t have a visitor.

“It was cloudy in the morning,” she began hesitantly. “B—but there wasn’t a cold breeze like there has been the past few days. And, um, by noon the clouds had begun to break up enough that the sun could peek through. The snow began to melt a bit, too.”

He closed his eyes as he listened, taking in every word she said. Ginny watched curiously, and, when he didn’t react further, she continued.

“It was the first time I had felt the sun on my face in what’s felt like ages now,” she admitted.

Lucius let out a long breath through his teeth, sounding similar to a snake. 

“I can relate.” 

Ginny’s face flushed as she realized her mistake. Of course, Lucius would’ve gone much longer without feeling the sun on his face. She was such an idiot. He didn’t seem to mind her blunder too much, however, for he continued speaking. 

“And how did it feel?”

The urge to examine each word before she let it escape her lips—why she hadn’t done that yet, she wasn’t sure—was overwhelming, but it didn’t latch on. As she stared at her father-in-law, she realized what she was seeing before her : a caged animal asking for some sort of relief. And it felt wrong to not give that to him, even if he was a monster. 

Somewhere, deep inside of her mind, she knew that this was a normal occurrence between them. Ginny knew she had yet to deny him his request, even when he was being particularly arrogant or rude. And it was easy to understand why; once this meeting was over, she would be able to get out and feel the wind on her face or the sun on the back of her neck. And he never would.

“It felt like… a break in the middle of a storm. The air was still cold and it made my eyes sting and water but… but the sun warmed my skin. I could smell raw magic in the air, where I was, and the heat of the sun only intensified it.” 

He opened his eyes as she continued.

“It’s cloudy again, though. I think it might snow soon.”

“Fascinating. Now, what brings you to my doorstep on this lovely night?”

“It’s Christmas.”

Her answer was a lie and fell from her lips without conviction. But what else was there for her to say? Certainly not the truth. 

“Indeed, it is. I often forget how very observant you are.”

Fighting the desire to clench her hands into fists, Ginny lifted her chin defiantly. A single, blond eyebrow rose high on his forehead at the action. 

Though there was light in the room, long shadows still darkened the cell. It made it hard to distinguish the differences between the man before her and the husband she had left at home. They were eerily similar. While at dinner that night, Ginny had thought how alike in looks Draco was to his mother; she wondered if she had been horribly mistaken.

The razor-sharp line of Lucius’ nose mirrored Draco’s; she could remember lying in bed the other morning, fighting the temptation to trace her husband’s nose with her finger. They shared the same strong jaw and wore the same frown. Worst of all, the ashy irises that stared at Ginny from the dark could easily be mistaken for Draco’s—except where Draco’s gaze was often soft and lovely when it fell on Ginny, his father’s was probing and callous. 

In one fluid motion, Lucius stood from his bed. He walked towards her casually, and Ginny hated herself for leaning back in her seat, trying to put as much space between them as possible. Stopping short of the barrier that protected Ginny from him, Lucius tilted his head to the side. 

“Why are you here?” he inquired before pausing. Then, “Again? Is this the fifth time? Or the sixth?”

Her initial reasoning for seeing Lucius, of accepting him for who he was and the part he played in her life, was lost to the curiosity that overcame her at the realization that she had been to Azkaban multiple times before. Fifth time? Really? She had been here that often to see him? 

Asma had been expecting Ginny to show up, late at night, at the main office in order to be transported to Azkaban. If Lucius was to be trusted, then she had been here a handful of times before. Why had she started coming here? 

Perhaps it was the same as her initial reasoning to come to the prison had been. She wanted to fix things with Draco. Maybe, possibly, Ginny had simply wanted to show Draco she cared for him.

Ginny could only hope it had been exactly that.

Somewhere along the way, however, Ginny had decided to continue meeting with Lucius and keep it hidden from her husband. The implication that came with that decision made her stomach turn. There was no way for her to find out what her intentions had been until her memory returned… no way to find out unless, of course, she managed to get the prisoner in front of her to give her the information.

Even as Lucius asked her why she was visiting him again, Ginny knew he was playing some sort of game with her. The gleam in his eyes warned her that he was picking up on more than she wanted. Did she normally shy away from him when he approached? Likely not. Was there always hesitation in answering his question about the weather? Unlikely. 

Despite not calling it out bluntly, Ginny had a feeling her father-in-law suspected that not all was right.

The only way Ginny could get back on a level playing field was to find out the answer to what Lucius had just asked her—why had she been visiting him so often?

“Maybe I missed your company.”

The words left her lips easily, almost affectionately. They came from somewhere in her that had remained hidden until recently , the part of her mind that she feared held all the answers of the past ten years. 

Lucius bared his teeth in a smile.

“I find that unlikely,” he responded.

Letting out a soft breath, and praying it would take the anxiety that filled her along with it, Ginny shrugged.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she replied cheekily.

“This isn’t the most pleasant place to spend time,” he remarked, spreading his arms wide. 

Though the cell had seemed initially comfortable, now that Lucius stood with his arms stretched out Ginny realized how confining it was. If he were to try to pace the cell, he’d be back in front of her within a few breaths.

“Do you still find my son lacking?”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed without her realizing. He was teasing her, she could tell by the way he watched her reaction, but she was certain there was something else lingering in his gaze. Had Ginny ever told Lucius that? Or was he simply saying it to test her?

“Draco’s at home.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“I know. You asked me why I came to visit you again.”

He inclined his head in agreement. They both ignored the fact that the last question he asked concerned Draco.

“Why do you think I’ve come?” 

Lucius made a sound in his throat.

“You’re unwilling to spend time here when the children and my son visit. You prefer to come here by yourself.”

Her heartbeat picked up.

“Why?”

He frowned, as if surprised by her question.

“Because you’re a coward.”

A sharp smile colored Lucius’ face once more. Ginny’s hands, still folded in her lap, were sweaty. 

He wasn’t going to answer her questions, she realized. As Lucius twisted each of his words to make sure they could mean a million different things, Ginny was wasting time trying to dissect what he was telling her. A flame of irritation lit inside her.

There wasn’t enough time for this. She had questions she needed answers to. And Lucius Malfoy was the only one who was able to give them to her. 

“You seem different, daughter.”

Her hackles rose at the endearing term and she found herself suddenly, irreversibly angry. The headache beating to the rhythm of her heart didn’t help her control her emotions.

“I’m not your daughter,” Ginny snapped.

“Aren’t you? You married into my family, you bore my grandchildren, you watch over the Malfoy name. Would your mother not consider Draco her son now? Would she not give her life for him?”

She stared in surprise. That was… not what she expected Lucius to say. He stood there expectantly . Suddenly hating that he was able to look down at her from where he stood, Ginny rose to her feet. He was still much taller than her—apparently Draco also got his height from his father—but it made her feel oddly better.

Licking her lips, she unclasped her hands and let them drop to her side.

“You would give your life for me?” 

“Not much chance of that opportunity arising in here,” Lucius replied dryly, but his gaze didn’t leave hers. “But Narcissa… yes, I believe she would. You have a family to raise. Your advice is what our son listens to most, what he agrees with without a second thought. He trusts you.”

“Narcissa would—”

“She’s your _mother_. Call her by her proper title. It’s always bothered you that I’ve called you my daughter, I know, but it doesn’t make it any less accurate. And if you had a true upbringing in a pureblood family, you’d know that it’s by far time you refer to her, and I, as your parents also.”

“But Draco has never—” Ginny stopped, unsure.

Could she really claim to know what Draco did or did not do? She had only truly known him for the past week. And, tonight, he _had_ called Molly Weasley _mother_ … 

Lucius watched her as she thought.

“You’re different,” he noted softly. “Much different from your last visit.”

Ginny looked up at him, eyes hooded.

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

The single word wasn’t a question, not really. It was an order, a demand—he expected her to tell him.

Ginny focused on Lucius, a million thoughts racing through her head. What did she say? Did she deny it? Could he smell the uncertainty on her like a vampire could blood? 

“You rather remind me of the lost girl who visited me the first time. Alone, scared, yet strangely determined…”

Lucius trailed off, but the curiosity in his words lingered between them. Ginny licked her dry lips before nodding.

“There was an accident,” she admitted. “I’ve lost some of my memory.”

“Indeed? How much memory is ‘some’?”

“The last ten years.”

Her answers spilled from her as though he had given her Veritaserum. But Ginny strangely didn’t mind, if only because Lucius’ obvious surprise was oddly satisfying. 

“Before you met my son?” he murmured. 

She nodded again, knowing he was referring to their relationship after Hogwarts, but said no more.

“What an interesting discovery. Could’ve wasted less time if you had admitted that in the beginning.”

Lucius smirked.

“Thirty minutes is all we have. Might want to use it more wisely next time. Yet if you _have_ lost the last ten years of memory, as you claim, it is so very interesting that you ended up here once again,” he paused. “Without Draco.”

Wasn’t it? It was the same thought that had been echoing in her head since she arrived here. Clearly her brain wasn’t as broken as she had assumed.

“When did this occur?”

“A week ago.”

“Narcissa didn’t mention this on her visit here, nor did my son.”

“She doesn’t know,” Ginny replied cautiously, her stomach squeezing at the admission. 

Lucius’ gaze was piercing. 

“Draco thought it ill-advised to tell his mother about your accident?”

It was as though Lucius was offended for his wife. Ginny gnawed on her bottom lip, and then forced herself to stop. She felt ridiculously like a child in front of him, and she didn’t like it. Clenching her fists, she fought to gain control of the conversation.

“Why did I come here before?”

“Why did you come here now?” Lucius questioned instead. “Isn’t that the real question?”

Ginny was reminded of the night Draco first kissed her in the library. She had noticed the Dark Mark that stained his arm and had asked him about it. When she inquired about whether she used to hate it when they first began dating, Draco had instead questioned if she hated it now. Her answer, that Ginny knew he was a different person than he had been when he received the branding, had seemed to settle something in his mind. 

Then Draco had kissed her.

It was something she hadn’t really thought of when she first lost her memory—that her decisions now were just as important as her past decisions. Her mum had warned her of it, that if she did something now she might regret it when her memory returned, but she had hardly heeded the advice. 

Why had she come here?

To show Draco she supported him. One hundred percent, that was why she had decided she needed to go to Azkaban to see Lucius Malfoy. But, in some distant part of her brain, had she been pushed to leave the bed with her husband because it was her allotted time slot to sneak away from her family and see her father-in-law? 

This was all so twisted.

On cue, her headache roared to life. Pressing a hand to her forehead, Ginny let her eyes close for a long moment. The darkness soothed the pain slightly . She almost felt like she could fall asleep standing there. It was quiet and cool in this room. Eventually the pain in her head might disappear. With her eyes closed, there was no need to ask questions or wonder why she was doing what she was doing. Everything could be peaceful.

“Tick tock, daughter. Time is running out.”

Ginny opened her eyes and immediately met Lucius’ stare. She had almost forgotten she wasn’t alone.

“I want to show Draco that I’m here for him despite …” She trailed off before collecting herself. “Despite you.”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed.

“How very _kind_ of you, though I must inform you that most wives are expected to accept their husbands despite what they don’t, ah, like about them.”

“My marriage to Draco isn’t like your marriage,” Ginny almost growled, defensive for reasons unknown.

“Clearly. Do you think he’ll appreciate this grand gesture when you arrive home and inform him that you decided to visit his father in prison without his knowledge? I don’t think I’m assuming too much when I say that Draco doesn’t find me to be the most trustworthy person. Will he really be so glad that his poor, injured wife came to see me without his permission?”

Her blood boiled.

“I don’t need his permission,” she fumed. Then she inhaled sharply. “Is that the same nonsense you told me the first time I came to visit?”

“Nonsense or truth?”

“You’re trying to mess with my head—”

“Am I? Are you worried it’s working? The _drivel_ words I speak seem strangely like the truth, don’t they?”

Did they? Ginny tried to calm her breathing. 

“You Weasleys always manage to bring out the worst in us,” Lucius said suddenly. The cold anger had left his voice. “Even in your children… they all have such potential. Sadly, their potential is marred by what your blood brought out in them. Though pureblood, you Weasleys have always been weak and sensitive. And each of your children are the same. I can only hope Draco is doing his best to squash that out of them.” 

She eyed Lucius. Though the tone of his voice had changed, Ginny would be stupid to believe their sudden heated argument had left him. In the end, the only thing that bound Lucius and Ginny together was Draco. Why should it surprise her that his son was the weapon he used against her? 

But… couldn’t she do the same?

“Your pressure over Draco, your rule over him, it didn’t work, _father_ ,” she spat. His eyebrows twitched. “You don’t even know Draco. He didn’t become a killer, not like you. Narcissa saved him from Voldemort, she lied to protect him—”

“My goal with Draco wasn’t to raise a killer, fool,” Lucius snarled. “ _I_ was the killer so that he could be something more. Narcissa was always soft with the boy, but he was the only child I would allow her to bare and, in doing so, I had to give some leeway. But if you believe Narcissa didn’t impose similar expectations onto our son, you must have never met my wife.”

He paused.

“Draco was meant to be the _winner_. I didn’t mind killing to make sure he ended up on top. Malfoys must always succeed, in any environment. It’s in our very blood, flowing in our veins. Even now, as my son sleeps, he schemes on how to rise to the highest tier in society. And if you don’t believe the same ambition is running in your children’s blood, my, I’d be worried. But I knew Draco would pick a suitable wife, someone to help his status.”

It was difficult to breathe but Ginny refused to show any weakness. Instead, she kept her eyes on Lucius, her expression blank. Oddly, she felt as though Draco was beside her, guiding her on how to keep calm, how not to portray any sign of emotion as his father spoke .

The feeling both calmed her and distressed her.

“And he had picked the absolute best woman, hadn’t he?” Lucius sneered. “A Weasley, the shining example of what is _good_ and _right_ , the family that had taken Harry Potter in and sheltered him from the cruel, harsh world. And for you to have won over Potter yourself, to have made him fall in love with you because you were simply that _pure_ … Somehow, despite being a Death Eater and despite having almost turned Potter in to the Dark Lord, despite having a father in Azkaban and a gradually diminishing estate… Draco managed to win you over. You fell in love with him. The media loved it, as did the public. They fell in love with him just as you did .”

“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered, the words catching in her throat.

“Because you seem to have _forgotten_ ,” he hissed. “You come in here as if this is your first time seeing me. So innocent, so very in love. Ah, yes, but you have forgotten. How convenient. Allow me to remind you. If you insist on visiting me, please, do try to retain some of the information. If I must sit here and train you how to be a Malfoy, I’d appreciate it if you actually listened.”

In frustration, Ginny banged her fist against the barrier between them. It felt the same as banging her hand against glass. Sparks flew out on Lucius’ side, forcing him to take a step back. 

“That’s not fair!” she cried out.

Then she spun on her heel, unable to look at him. What was she doing? What the fuck was she doing? This conversation with Lucius reminded Ginny harshly of all the horrible decisions she had made concerning Draco. Even in the past week, Ginny had hidden so much from him: her knowledge of the divorce papers, her run in with Chang, her visit with Pansy.

She needed to leave, she needed—all she wanted was to see Draco right now. The burning desire to do right by Draco, the curiosity that had plagued her when she realized this wasn’t her first time to Azkaban, the adrenaline that hit her when she first laid eyes on her father-in-law… it left her exhausted as she tried to steady her breathing.  
Nothing about this would help her marriage. It only seemed to lead her further down the rabbit hole. 

But then what Lucius said echoed in her mind. 

_If I must sit here and train you to be a Malfoy…_

What did that mean?

Ginny turned around to find Lucius in the same spot. Head cocked to the side, he smirked at her when their eyes met.

“I—”

The door opened to her right, stopping her from speaking. The guard stuck his head in, glancing at Lucius before turning her attention to Ginny. He frowned.

“Time’s up,” he informed her. 

Of course.

Ginny nodded to the guard before looking at Lucius. He seemed deep in thought.

Despite wanting to run from this room, from Lucius, Ginny hesitated. There were so many questions brewing in her mind that she was desperate for answers to. But there was no time. Sighing, Ginny began towards the exit before his voice stopped her.

“You want to know why I think you visit me?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder.

“I think you’ve finally realized that my son is a Malfoy and there is no changing that… and that your children have our blood in them too. You married my son out of love, not obligation, and while I strive to understand how my son was so stupid to propose marriage with a clouded mind, I cannot say I’m completely against it. But love made you believe that my son could change, that his last name did not define him, that it was _I_ who made him the way he was. Of course, you’re correct on some parts; I did lead my son to the path he’s on now, but there are generations of Malfoys before him who have helped direct him.”

He paced closer to her, and she turned to face him completely, unable to stop herself.

“I believe you realized that; while trying to convince your protective parents and your cautious brothers and your naïve friends that Draco wasn’t the Malfoy they all believed him to be, you were discovering that, indeed, he _was_. He will bring our family’s name back to honor, by any means necessary. And, along with it, he will bring my grandchildren… and you. But while most women of good nature would have baulked at the idea of their husband falling back into his father’s wicked ways, you sought a different path. You sought to understand it.”

A chill raced up Ginny’s spine.

“My wife spoils Draco; she always has. And, perhaps, from time to time, I gave him things that weren’t necessary to his success simply to see him happy. But you knew you could learn more from me about being a Malfoy than from anyone else. It is in Draco’s blood, the many _ways_ he could fulfill his duties. He is not stupid, my son. No, he is brilliant. I led him down a dangerous course that could have ended us all. It was my fault, not his, that our family was left in shambles.”

His hands were pressed against the barrier between them, his eyes glowing. No sparks flew from either side, but Ginny felt as though her skin was burning. 

“I can never renounce you, for I fear Draco made a better match than his mother could have, or I. You don’t look to punish Draco for what is ingrained in him as others would have; you look to understand. You come to me to _learn_. Your sons, your daughter, will grow with the same ambition in their minds, and if you don’t come to understand it now with my son how will you ever be able to properly guide them? A Malfoy man cannot survive without his wife’s influence. A Malfoy child cannot survive without their mother’s warnings. And, while you struggle to understand, at least you are _here_. Even now when your memory is gone, you have come to me to learn how to help your husband…”

She took a shuddering breath. It felt as though her insides were melting. Her face was flushed. Her hands were shaking. Ginny held Lucius’ gaze for a second longer before walking out of the room. 

Behind her, she was sure she heard him say, _“I’ll see you soon, daughter.”_

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

It was a blur, leaving the prison cell. She couldn’t remember much of her walk back down the corridor with the guard, only the blinding yellow of the walls, nor much of the elevator ride, except that she stumbled into the wall when it abruptly stopped.

Blaise was pale as he waited in the chair for Ginny. He jumped up as soon as the guard holding Ginny’s wand spoke. Familiar warmth cloaked Ginny as soon as she grasped her wand and she breathed easier. Rushing towards Blaise, Ginny couldn’t bother with wearing a fake smile to ease his worry. All she could do was bite her lip and incline her head towards the fireplace. Nodding sharply, he helped her step into the hearth.

Did she even say goodbye to Asma?

Ginny couldn’t recall. One moment she was walking out of the fireplace, shaky from the resurgence of her headache, then the next Blaise was guiding her outside. As it had earlier, the cool air helped calm her. She grabbed Blaise’s hand in her own. His eyes were already on her, worried and confused.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, squeezing her hand.

She wished she could properly explain how grateful she was that he wasn’t interrogating her. Blaise knew something was wrong. He had heard Asma say that Ginny had been here before. But… but he was being kind to her. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she shook her head.

“I want to go home. I can Appar—”

“Don’t be foolish,” Blaise interrupted briskly. “You look like death.”

Not allowing her to fight, Blaise locked arms with her before Apparating. 

They arrived in her front yard, close to the spot she had left from. Blaise didn’t let go of her right away and she was glad because she was sure she’d fall to the ground. She felt like a fool. Embarrassment made her skin flush, and she kept her eyes lowered.

“Ginny. What did you talk about with him?”

Ginny sighed before glancing up. Blaise offered her a slight smile.

“Inquiring minds want to know,” he joked. 

“Blaise, I—” Ginny swallowed thickly. “Did I ruin everything? With Draco? Is that why you asked me if losing my memory was a good thing? Because I had ruined it all?”

His grip tightened on her arm.

“No,” he breathed harshly. “You and Draco are both idiots, honestly. Particularly when it comes to each other. But… you have to believe me when I say nothing is ruined.”

_Do you still find my son lacking?_

She shuddered as Lucius’ words rang in her mind.

“I should—I should go. Are you going to sleep here?” she asked.

Blaise groaned, running a hand over his face. Then he shook his head.

“Fools, both of you,” he told her, exasperated. “But no, I’ll be going back to my house. I’ll see you in the morning. Just… just take some time to think. You’re not a horrible person. Whatever you were doing…”

“Visiting Draco’s father in Azkaban without him knowing?” 

A watery laugh escaped Ginny’s lips. Blaise pressed his lips together in a hard line. 

“Draco loves you. Get some sleep. We’ll talk about this later… It’s Christmas. Everything will be fine.”

Ginny nodded. Then Blaise, with a gentle touch, pushed her towards the front door. She went without any fight, glancing back only once to see that Blaise was looking up at the sky, hands shoved in his pockets. 

She headed straight for the bedroom, afraid to be left to her own thoughts. When Ginny gently pushed open the door to her room, a wave of relief threatened to engulf her when she saw Draco was still sound asleep.

As Ginny studied him, she hated herself for even considering the idea that Lucius and Draco were similar in looks. Of course, Draco carried some of the same features as his father. But the two men were nothing alike. In sleep, Draco was as gentle as she had recalled at Azkaban. 

Stripping out of her clothes quickly, wondering if the stink of Azkaban had clung to the cloth, Ginny absentmindedly grabbed a large, loose shirt from a drawer and pulled it on . She smiled slightly when it fell midthigh; it was clearly one of Draco’s. Then she tiptoed to the bathroom, splashing water on her face and washing her hands, her arms, glad to have any invisible residue of the prison rinsed away. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Draco hadn’t moved at all.

She climbed into bed and under the covers before wrapping her arms around Draco’s warm body, glad that he was here and solid and real. 

Without hesitation, Ginny pressed her lips to his exposed throat. His pulse met her touch, steady. Draco’s hand twitched and he shifted.

Selfishly, Ginny wanted him awake. She wanted his eyes on her so she could forget the harsh glare of his father. She wanted to hear his voice, so she could forget the accusations that Lucius had brought against her. Even if—even if they weren’t as horrible as they were confusing. 

“Draco,” she whispered.

Her finger traced the hard line of his nose as she had thought of doing earlier, but the skin beneath her fingertips was soft. He reached up and swatted her hand away.

“Why do you do that?”

Draco’s voice was heavy with sleep and Ginny found herself smiling stupidly up at him.

“You don’t like it?” she asked. 

“What I don’t like is how wide awake you are.”

One of his eyes opened to peer at her. She felt a flash of guilt course through her. He looked tired, and the eye exposed to her was bloodshot. Ginny went to move away, but it was as though he knew what she was about to do—his hand settled in the small of her back and pulled her towards him, trapping her against his chest. 

She laughed in surprise. 

“Is it past midnight?” Draco inquired, his other eye opening.

Ginny nodded.

He made a sound deep in his throat and shifted, allowing her to settle more comfortably against him. She was glad for many things in that moment: Draco was beside her, her children slept comfortably down the hall, the ache in her head was barely there, the questions that whirled in her mind seemed to slowly be disappearing.

When Ginny sighed against Draco’s skin, his hand against her back flexed.

“Draco?”

His eyes had fluttered shut again and he was already relaxing back into sleep. When she called his name, his eyebrows rose.

“Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

His mouth curled into a small smile. Ginny lifted herself up on her elbows so she could press a kiss to his lips. She didn’t think twice as she did it, though she supposed she should have. Would Draco be even more upset that she had kissed him after visiting Azkaban behind his back? Would he hate her for coming home, crawling into their bed, and pretending nothing was wrong whenever he found out?

Those questions eventually left her mind too, for when she went to pull away from Draco, he followed her. He was almost completely sitting up in order to capture her lips once more. The hand that wasn’t on her back crept up her arm before curling in her hair, guiding her back to him. 

Draco still tasted like the elderberry wine, sweet and warm. She almost felt she was becoming drunk from the taste, or, maybe, the feeling was coming to her because Draco pulled her even closer now. The hand that had been settled on her back crept up her spine, agonizingly slow. Ginny cupped his face, warmth pooling deep inside her when she felt stubble tickle her palms. 

She relaxed; it felt as though the bones in her body had melted, leaving her a puddle that he was holding in place. Draco must’ve felt her unwind in his hands for he leaned back, his lips leaving hers. Ginny opened her eyes, ready to demand he continue kissing her, but there was a cocky smirk on his face that made her roll her eyes.

His eyes were sharp as laughter rumbled deep in his chest .

“Merry Christmas, indeed,” Draco murmured.

Ginny couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. He untangled his hand from her hair and traced her jaw.

“Why are you so awake?”

Right away, her face flushed and her breath caught in her throat. She realized the smile that had come easily to her lips seconds before dropped as quickly as it had arrived. Ginny forced herself to relax. Nothing was more suspicious than reacting like that . Shaking her head, and hating the guilt that seemed permanently settled in her stomach, Ginny leaned completely against Draco. Her head was nestled under his chin and he seemed content with the position, leaning back against the headboard and embracing her loosely.

“Headache.”

It wasn’t a lie. The bloody pain had yet to completely leave her be, lingering since after the party. 

Draco made a sympathetic noise as his fingers danced down her arm, a soothing touch that made her eyes heavy. When his fingers skimmed the swell of her breast, she inhaled sharply, but Draco did not seem intent to linger. 

“Do you want a potion for it?” When she shook her head no, he nodded slightly. She could feel the movement on the top of her head. “Sleep, Gin. The children will be up soon. Mother will be coming by tomorrow and Blaise too. It will be a full house…”

She wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore, her attention waning despite the fact that she had been the one to wake him from his slumber. Draco didn’t seem to mind, though, if he did notice that she wasn’t paying attention. He continued the steady, comforting stroking of her arm. Ginny could hear his heartbeat and the rumble of the words in his chest. If only she could fall asleep like this every night…

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

It wasn’t the children that woke her. 

No, no, though she wished it had been.

A sharp pain pulsed through her head. Ginny gasped, sitting up so quickly that the world swam before her. She clutched at her head, her fingers digging into her scalp as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

What—what was happening?

This wasn’t the normal headache she had been experiencing earlier. Something was wrong, something—this wasn’t right—it hurt so much. It felt as though someone had hit her with a curse. She needed, she just needed—

“Draco,” Ginny whimpered.

She wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear her. At some point she had hunched forward, curling in on herself as she willed the pain to give her a break. 

It did not listen to her, despite her mental pleas to _go away_.

But Draco had heard her. 

His touch against her back was instant relief, reminding her that she wasn’t horribly alone in this torment. But Ginny couldn’t hear what he was saying to her; she could hardly focus on anything other than her skull feeling as though it was about to split in half.

She felt his fingertips against her head—so cold against her warm skin—and she met his worried gaze.

“It hurts,” she gasped. “Merlin, Draco, it hurts .”

“Your head?”

The two words seemed to echo in her ears, ringing. 

Ginny braved a nod and it made everything tilt around her. She was falling to the side—no, no she wasn’t. Draco had caught her, gently pulling her to the edge of the bed. He fell to his knees in front of her, shakily pushing her hands away from where she clutched her head. His hands replaced her own, his touch much more calming. Panic colored his face; the sight shocked her so horribly that she was able to concentrate on her husband clearly, if only for a moment.

“It’s the headache from earlier?”

“All night.”

“Okay,” he responded briskly, his eyes darting over her face. “We’ll go to St. Mungo’s. I’ll call for my mother—”

Ginny was already shaking her head. 

There was something terrible poking at her, a warning, a sign. This wasn’t a normal headache that had been haunting her all day, that caused her such agony now. 

_A week._

The Healer at St. Mungo’s had told her she had a week until her memories returned completely. And she had been pushing it off, hadn’t wanted to learn the truth of her past, not like she should’ve. What if this was it? It had been past a week now and she hardly remembered _anything_. It wasn’t normal. Ginny should remember everything by now, and she didn’t remember anything, only bits and pieces.

But if this was it, if this headache had something to do with her memory loss, was she even ready for it?

Tonight alone had shown her how deeply the issues that plagued her marriage with Draco ran. What if there was more? There had to be. And… the idea of losing everything left her breathless, the sudden urge to sob overpowering—not because of the pain but because of how much there was to lose.

Ginny had visited Lucius Malfoy without Draco knowing multiple times. She had been the one to ask Hermione for the divorce papers. She had been the one to slowly replace Draco in her life with Luna. She had been the one accusing him of cheating when he hadn’t been. 

Maybe Draco had done horrible things too, but Ginny couldn’t pretend to be innocent in her marriage’s decline .

She didn’t _want_ to remember everything. Ginny didn’t want to know.

“You’re sick,” Draco began softly. “This could have to do with your accident, your head injury—”

Clearly, Draco’s thoughts aligned with her own.

“No, Draco, no, I can’t go.”

“Ginny, you’re in pain. We need to—”

“NO! Draco, no, don’t make me go,” she pleaded.

He leaned back in surprise, his hands dropping from their spot on her head. The desperation in her voice obviously stunned him.

“Why not?” Draco asked, reaching up to push the hair from her eyes.

His voice was low, comforting, soft.

Ginny didn’t deserve him. The sudden desire to tell him the truth about everything choked her and she inhaled unevenly, the telltale sign that she was about to begin crying.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared?” he repeated slowly, though something darkened his face that Ginny didn’t recognize. “What are you afraid of?”

A wave of nausea hit her. The world twisted and turned before she clenched her eyes shut. When the nausea felt like it had passed she opened her eyes again. Draco’s lips were pulled tight. It was obvious he was refraining from running from the room, ordering his mother to watch the children, and forcing her to go to St. Mungo’s with him.

“If—if I remember—Draco, what if, what—”

Tears wet her face, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She dropped her head into the safety of her hands, glad for the momentary darkness it brought.

From his silence, though, Ginny knew Draco had finally caught on.

“Ginny?”

She lifted her head, but the candles—When had he lit candles? Had they been burning all night? —made it hard for her to focus. Ginny turned away from the light.

“Ginny, please, everything will be fine.” 

He cupped her face and she leaned into it, hoping for some reprieve. 

“Let me help you,” Draco implored.

Ginny stared at him as the hum of the pain dulled once again. It seemed the headache came in waves, as though it were a battering ram trying to break into a fortress. The hit was hard, numbing, but there was a moment of brief calm where she could think clearly. Then it struck again.

Draco’s face was open and vulnerable. Her stomach twisted at the sight of it.

Ginny had never seen him so exposed before. It only made her anxiety worsen. Draco deserved the truth. She didn’t deserve his sympathy, his worry. He needed to know everything she had hidden from him the past week.

“I know about the divorce papers,” she breathed. “I’ve known for a while now. The first night, after our fight in your study, I found them… That’s why I went to see Harry, that’s why I _left_. I thought we were done, that it was done, that I needn’t try.”

He shook his head in confusion, his lips parting.

“I saw you had signed them.” A sob caught in her throat and she had to swallow painfully in order to continue speaking. “And… and I don’t want to find out why. I’m _happy_ right now, we’re happy, and I don’t want to remember if it means losing this.”

His hands rested on her thighs and he gripped them gently.

“You’ve thought this whole time that… that the papers were because of me? And you said nothing?”

“I remembered—Hermione, I remembered her giving them to _me_. But, I just, how could I have wanted them? Why did you sign them? I—”

A wave of pain made it hard for her to speak.

“Granger? _Granger_ gave the papers to you?” 

Ginny flinched. The hurt was undeniable in his voice.

She wasn’t sure if it was that or the pain in her head that made her hunch over suddenly, spilling the contents of her stomach on the floor. If anything hit Draco, he didn’t make a fuss over it. Instead he rubbed her back before guiding her to lay down. There was no fight in her to stop him from doing so. He kept her on her side and bent low to catch her eyes.

“I’ll be right back. Okay? Gin?”

She nodded.

He ran from the room.

It felt like ages until there was noise in the hall outside the bedroom. Ginny couldn’t bother to lift her head to see who was coming. A Healer? Her mother-in-law? Maybe it was her own mum. The idea of Molly showing up, of comforting Ginny and telling her everything would be just fine, brought forth conflicting emotions inside Ginny. Molly’s touch had always helped calm Ginny when she was ill, but how could she look at her mum, who loved Draco so much, without drowning in more guilt over what she had done to their marriage? 

Draco came into view and immediately scooped her into his arms. She breathed in sharply as her head pounded. And he was… he was talking. Ginny looked at the other person in the room.

“Blaise,” she murmured.

Blaise was standing in the doorway, in the same outfit he had been wearing when they left Azkaban. Draco must’ve frightened him horribly when he called for him, for he was more disheveled than he had been when she arrived at his doorstep.

When Blaise heard his name spoken from her lips, however, he offered her a tiny smile.

“Everything is always so dramatic with you Weasleys, isn’t it?” he questioned, but the obvious concern he felt made his voice wobble.

He was searching her face, as if her expression could tell him what had gone wrong.

“I’ll let you know what they say,” Draco interrupted, catching Blaise’s attention. “Don’t tell the children. We’ll figure it out after we speak to the Healer. Wake my mother, get her over here to help distract them, okay?”

He didn’t wait for a response. They were moving suddenly. She reached up and wrapped her hand in Draco’s shirt—when had he changed?—before her head pounded sharply again.

The world went black.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

When she woke up, she had an instant feeling of déjà vu.

A soft humming had woken her. Ginny blinked several times as the world around her came into focus. Her surroundings were incredibly white. 

She was at St. Mungo’s. 

Ginny turned her head and saw a Healer standing over her, the same Healer who had spoken to her when she woke up at the hospital the last time . He was the source of the humming. Runes were drawn up above her, and he was looking at them curiously.

Where was Draco?

Suddenly desperate to see her husband, Ginny shifted in the bed. Everything swayed and she stopped.

“Careful now, Mrs. Malfoy,” the Healer warned kindly. “You’re not quite right yet, are you?”

She stared up at the man, and he glanced down at her, smiling. 

“I suppose I did tell you to come back and see me in a week if your memories hadn’t returned yet,” he continued. 

“What’s wrong with me?” she groaned, lifting a hand to her forehead.

“Nothing is wrong with you, Mrs. Malfoy. I simply hadn’t taken your magical ability into account when giving you your timeline for healing.”

Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re fighting the memories. You’re actually making it harder for your brain to heal, for you to remember,” the Healer said knowingly. “You’re a powerful witch, Mrs. Malfoy, there is no denying that. But your magic can only do so much. It’s time, I believe, that you let yourself remember.”

His words terrified her.

“You’re saying… you’re saying that she’s been fighting the return of her memories?”

The sudden arrival of the familiar voice startled Ginny. She sat up quickly as the Healer stepped to the side. Draco had been hidden from view. He sat in a chair beside the bed , head bowed. 

“Yes. Your wife has extraordinary power, Mr. Malfoy.”

The Healer paused and looked back to Ginny.

“I recommend you deal with this situation sooner rather than later. The headaches, the pain you’ve been feeling? Symptoms from fighting your recovery. Go somewhere peaceful, somewhere you’ll be comfortable, and… relax. I’d advise you to go alone, but… the pain you experienced earlier will linger and I’m uncomfortable with the idea of you being by yourself if another incident occurs.”

She fought to catch her breath. 

“It’s Christmas,” the Healer continued when no one spoke. “Give yourself time to heal. Let down your mental walls. Remember. And enjoy the day with your family, hmm?”

Draco looked up then and his gaze met her own. He looked rather like he had when he’d rushed from the States to retrieve her from the Burrow. Dark bags marred the sensitive skin under his eyes. His mouth was pulled tight. There was no color to his cheeks. 

He looked… exhausted. 

And the advice from the Healer seemed to pain them both, for they knew what was coming. If she were to remember everything from the last ten years, the delicate relationship they had created over the past week would be destroyed .

Ginny took a shuddering breath, fighting the urge to sob, before nodding to the Healer. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~


	12. Day Eight, Part Two

The silence that stretched between Draco and Ginny left her feeling incredibly small. It also heightened the normally soft sounds in the room: his uneven breathing, the pounding of her heart, the people walking by outside the room, a child crying further down the corridor.

Once the Healer had left, giving one last encouraging smile before shutting the door behind him, there seemed to be nothing left to say. Physically, her body was once again back to normal, or as close to it as possible. No longer was her head pounding, her stomach rolling, her palms sweating. It seemed that now that there was only one choice left— _she had to remember_ —her body wasn’t trying to fight her.

Ginny glanced at Draco, who seemed to have trouble looking up from the floor.

She understood, of course. What was he supposed to say? Better yet, what was she supposed to say? After everything she had blurted out while in pain, confessing her fears of losing him, of knowing about the divorce papers, of not wanting to remember, what could they possibly say to each other? 

Slowly, Ginny released her breath and leaned back against the pillows. It was Christmas morning, the children were likely waking up now if they hadn’t already during the commotion of their parents leaving, and here Ginny and Draco sat, unwilling to leave the temporary calm the hospital room offered them. At this point, Ginny was more than a little surprised her body was still functioning. How could she still be able to properly think after everything that had happened? So much had occurred over the past twenty-four hours that she was half waiting for her body to shut down from lack of sleep.

At the thought of sleep, Ginny let her eyes flutter shut. It was much easier to deal with this situation when she was able to ignore everything around her, pretending the darkness that her eyes provided was a refuge. Hadn’t she done the same thing only hours ago when she had visited Azkaban?

Her stomach somersaulted and she opened her eyes. There was still so much Draco didn’t know, so much _she_ didn’t know. It had to be dealt with, whether they liked it or not. The idea had terrified her in the shadows of her bedroom—had truly scared her since the accident first happened, if she was being honest—but there was no denying the fact that Ginny had to face her fears and remember.

“Draco—”

Whatever she had wanted to say was forgotten when he lifted his head, not quite meeting her gaze. Merlin, even now he looked so beautiful. Clenching her hands in the sheets, Ginny fought the urge to rush out of the bed and into his arms. If she felt better now, was there a chance she could make it through the day with the children, with him, and not have any issues? No headache, no tears, no guilt? Maybe they could have one last day together…

Draco seemed to know what she was thinking, for he stood from his spot and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached over and gently uncurled her left fist, so that he could properly look over her hand. Ginny could remember waking up at St. Mungo’s only a week ago; the shock that had overwhelmed her when she looked at her hands and realized she didn’t recognize them, not completely, came to mind. But Draco recognized them, that much was clear. His touch was tender as his thumb brushed over her skin, uncaring of the veins that showed underneath her freckles or the uneven suntan.

When his thumb traced the sapphire of her wedding ring, she stopped breathing.

He noticed, his grip tightening slightly. Then, he spoke.

“Where should we go?”

Ginny stiffened.

“What?”

Draco’s lips twitched into a frown and he released his hold of her hand. The loss of his touch made her stomach drop and Ginny fought to keep the disappointment from showing on her face.

“We need to go somewhere you can relax. Our house likely won’t be the best—”

“No,” Ginny cut in, reaching for his hand again. She let her hand drop before she could grab him, feeling strangely awkward. Clearing her throat, she continued, “It’s Christmas, Draco. The children need at least one   
of us home. It isn’t fair to them.”

Draco let out a sharp laugh, one that reminded her far too much of Lucius.

“You expect me to leave you alone?”

“Well, yeah. The children are going to know something’s wrong if neither of us are there.”

“Something _is_ wrong, Ginny,” Draco snapped. “We need to deal with this. It’s not as though we can go home and play pretend for another day. The time has certainly passed for that.”

She flinched; she forgot how cutting his words could be when he wanted them to be. Angrily, he ran a hand through his hair before abruptly standing. Ginny followed his movements with her eyes.   
Though she supposed she should be touched that Draco wanted to be with her while she tore down her mental walls, she couldn’t help but balk at the idea. There was simply no way she could justify taking Draco from the children on Christmas morning. They already endured a week from hell, living with a mother who didn’t remember them. How could she take away the father that did know them, that recalled every last detail about them, on such a special day? Ginny wouldn’t allow that to happen, even if she had to Stupefy Draco and have Blaise come by to grab him after she made a hasty escape.

That seemed more than a little dramatic, but Ginny couldn’t help it. Desperation had begun to fill her at the thought of the children being without either of their parents on Christmas. She had already made so many mistakes…

Draco sighed softly, and the sound beckoned Ginny’s attention back to her husband. He was by the window, staring out of it, looking as lost in his thoughts as Ginny had been only seconds ago. Then he sighed again and turned back towards her. 

“I’ll send an owl to my mother, letting her know what the Healer said.”

“Draco—”

“I’m not sure where it would be best to go, however. It would have to be quiet and away from curious eyes,” he murmured, hand rubbing his chin absentmindedly. 

“Draco, listen—”

“Or simply somewhere you’d be comfortable. I was wondering about the Quidditch pitch. It is your favorite place to go, but it might not be the best location since that’s where the accident happened. I also think it wise if we don’t tell your family about this. Your mother will worry horribly, and I can’t imagine you dealing with that also—”

“Listen to me, will you!” Ginny cried out, standing from the bed.

Thankfully, dizziness did not sweep over her as it had whenever she made sudden movements the last few hours. Draco stopped speaking, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since the Healer had left them. She licked her lips, unsure of where to begin now that she had his full attention. He was trying to force her hand, to not give her a choice, to make sure he was with her when her memories returned, and Ginny wanted to be appreciative, really.

But she had already made up her mind.

“You’re going home, Draco. You’re going to go home and make sure the children are okay. They should be your first priority.”

“You’re my wife,” he responded, frowning. “I should be with you.”

She swallowed thickly. 

Ginny couldn’t help but wonder if he was so insistent on staying with her because, perhaps, he wouldn’t have done so before. The thought made her want to sit back down. Instead she lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m more than capable of doing this by myself.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, expressing his skepticism. An unwelcome blush stained her cheeks and Ginny rolled her eyes. When her head had felt ready to explode, forcing her from her sleep and making her desperate for relief, she had needed help, that much was true. And Draco had been there beside her, as frantic as she was to fix everything. But it was different now. They knew what to do, how to fix it. And, at the moment, she was free of pain.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Ginny said softly, taking a hesitant step towards him. “For bringing me here and for wanting to come with me, and… I’m sorry for blurting everything out like that earlier. I hadn’t meant…”

She trailed off. Draco didn’t move towards her but his expression softened.

“Ginny… If I had known you knew about the papers…” He paused, unsure.

Now it was her turn to look unconvinced. Instead of pressing to find out what, exactly, Draco would’ve done, Ginny opted for a different route.

“I didn’t tell you I knew because I was afraid it’d make everything more complicated between us. And I’m—I’m happy I hadn’t, to be honest. But, look, I—I was afraid earlier, at home.” Terrified, more like. But she didn’t need to elaborate, for she knew Draco understood. “But I’m not now. Or not as afraid as I had been, I guess. I need to do this, I know that now. I hadn’t realized that _I_ was the reason my memories weren’t coming back. But now I know, and I know I can fix this myself, but I need to know you’re taking care of the children. I need to know they’re happy as I deal with this. I need to know you’re with them.”

Twisting her hands in front of her, Ginny took another step closer to him. She looked up at him.

“Trust me with this,” she implored.

He stared back at her, hard. His eyes moved over her face, going from one of her eyes to the other. Then his gaze lifted. Draco reached out, and his fingers dusted over her forehead. She could only assume he was searching for the tender spot from her accident that had disappeared days ago.

The tension in Draco’s body left him.

“Where will you go?” he asked.

“The Burrow.”

Ginny hadn’t thought on it, but the answer came without hesitation. She recalled leaving St. Mungo’s a week ago with Ron and Molly, frightened and lost. The idea of going to the Burrow had eased her worries then. After she spoke, the same relief came to her.

“Let me go with you there, at least. Then I’ll head home.”

It was the only way he’d let her do this, Ginny knew. So she nodded, hoping the small smile that graced her face was enough to comfort him with the plan they had agreed on. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

The sun was warm on the back of Ginny’s neck as they walked up the dirt path to the front door. Dew glistened on the grass from the morning light, and the chickens were clucking in their coop, comfortable despite the chill that hung in the air. Smoke rose from the chimney, promising warmth once the pair entered the house, and Ginny could spy some of the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree from the front window. 

Draco wouldn’t stop looking at her from the corner of his eye as they approached the Burrow. Every time she’d try to meet his gaze, however, his attention would be directed towards the lopsided house. Ginny wanted to say something to him about it—she wanted to say anything, really—but the words kept dying in her throat as soon as she thought of something.

Far too soon, they were at the front door. It opened easily for Ginny and she stepped in first, then Draco followed. The house was abnormally quiet, likely from how early it was, and Ginny snuck a glance at the clock on the mantel. She cringed when she saw it was past six. Orion, Gray, and Lyra were certainly awake by now. Were they very worried as they sat with Blaise and Narcissa at breakfast? Or had they accepted what the adults had told them and were busy opening presents?

Automatically, Ginny headed towards the kitchen. She rubbed her arms to get some warmth back into her body, aware of the fact that she was still in pajamas. As she got a glass of water, she wondered if Draco or St. Mungo’s had put the loose-fitting pants on her that she now wore. After gulping down the water, Ginny turned and warily glanced at Draco. He was staring at her. 

“This is it, then?”

She refilled her glass, waiting for him to continue.

“I leave you and continue on with my day, waiting for you to send an owl letting me know when you’d like to see me again?” 

Placing the cup on the counter, Ginny shook her head. Her hair, almost untamable at this point, covered her face, giving her a moment to collect herself. Then she pushed it away. Draco’s eyes hadn’t left her in that time.

“This is the best option.”

“Your parents aren’t home. You knew that, didn’t you?”

She frowned, surprised by his guarded tone. But… but it was true. Effortlessly, Ginny recalled that every Christmas morning her parents left early to go to Bill’s. Bill and Fleur were always the earliest risers of the Weasley children, though not as early as Arthur and Molly. Ginny _had_ known that, another hidden fact that swayed her actions without her even knowing. 

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Draco, please,” Ginny almost groaned. “I’ll be fine. It’s almost seven, you should—”

“Head home, yes, I know that’s where you’d like me best,” he hissed. “But I can’t leave you like this. What if something happens to you? Hmm? You’ll be here alone and no one will know. Do you realize how much you frightened me earlier? I thought, fuck, I had thought—”

He stopped speaking abruptly and reached out to grab onto the back of one of the chairs. His knuckles were white. Desperation made her voice pitch high when she spoke.

“I wish I could go with you, go and see the children, not do _this_. I hadn’t thought our first Christmas together we’d be…” Ginny broke off, frustration making her lip tremble. This wasn’t their first Christmas together. He had already had plenty of Christmases with her. “If I could go with you, I would. Don’t you believe me?”

His lips pressed together, and he looked away from her. Draco was holding back from saying something he shouldn’t, Ginny knew, and the familiar mantra echoed in her head: _make him fight, don’t let him hide away, make him stay_. The mental chant made her stiffen as she prepared herself for a fight with him. 

But then he glanced back at her, resignation clear on his face. 

“Of course, I do.”

Draco inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenched. Then he let go of the chair and approached her. Ginny stared. Some part of her was aware that normally Draco would shut down, that she’d have to fight and scream to get his attention, that even then he’d be stubborn in his argument. Deep down, Ginny knew this was different of Draco: agreeing with her easily, allowing her to win when he didn’t want her to, willing to talk out the disagreement instead of ignoring it.

“Ginny…”

He stood in front of her, eyes hooded as he stared down at her. Ginny’s mouth went dry, heart hammering as she waited for Draco to continue speaking. Because, suddenly, she _needed_ to hear what he was going to say. 

“What are you two doing here?”

Ginny shrieked at the additional voice, jumping slightly. Her hand knocked the cup behind her, sending it flying into the sink. The glass shattering and water spilling everywhere were barely processed as Ginny spotted the intruder.

“Charlie!” 

Her older brother grinned at her sleepily as he leaned in the doorway of the kitchen. She hadn’t even thought about the fact that Charlie was home for the holidays this year, even though she had seen him just last night. 

“Happy Christmas,” he greeted, covering his mouth as he yawned.

Despite his drowsy appearance, his eyes were burning with curiosity as they bounced between Draco and Ginny. Draco’s expression cleared of emotions, and he took several large steps away from her. Letting out a slightly shrill laugh, Ginny pushed off the counter towards Charlie. He held out his arms, and she stepped into his embrace.

“Happy Christmas,” she muttered into his shirt, tightening her arms around him.

Ginny used the moment to collect herself before stepping away. Even though she wanted to smile brightly at her brother, she knew the façade would be seen through easily. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Charlie told her, though his grin begged to differ. 

“What are you doing here? Aren’t Mum and Dad at Bill’s?”

“Slept in. Mum tried to have me up at five, that mad woman. I’m not sure she realizes that Victoire, Louis, and Dominique like to sleep in on Christmas morning now; they’re not little kids anymore. I was about to head that way soon.”

He looked between the pair again, his eyebrows lifting high on his forehead.

“Enough about me. Why are you lot here? Where are the kids? Decided to leave them to fend for themselves this morning?”

Her lips cracked into a smile. Exhaustion kept her from coming up with a lie so, instead, she met his eyes and waved distractedly at her head.

“Having some issues with this brain of mine.”

The teasing tone she used didn’t stop worry from immediately coloring Charlie’s face.

“Are you okay?” 

Charlie looked over her shoulder at Draco. Ginny glanced at Draco too but his face was still perfectly blank. She sighed and turned back to Charlie.

“I’m fine. Draco’s about to head back home to be with the kids. I just… need some time here to rest.” 

Charlie nodded slowly, but his eyes were narrowed.

“Can I help somehow?”

Ginny opened her mouth to respond— _No, go see Bill and the kids, don’t tell Mum, okay?_ —but Draco beat her to it.

“Actually, yes.”

Closing her mouth with a snap, Ginny turned around to meet Draco’s gaze. He wouldn’t meet hers, however, instead staring intently at Charlie. She felt Charlie tense behind her, always ready to help out when asked, and she fought a groan. Anything she said to try to oppose what Draco asked of Charlie would fall on deaf ears now. 

Great.

“If you could stay with her for a bit,” Draco began, his voice oddly light. “I’d… greatly appreciate it. I’ll send someone over—”

“Draco—” She tried to interrupt, but he paid her no mind.

“—so that you’ll be able to go to Bill’s. An hour? Maybe two? I don’t want her to be alone.”

“Of course,” Charlie agreed, his hand coming to rest on Ginny’s shoulder. “Should I write Mum?”

“No,” Ginny said at once, glowering at Draco. “No, Mum doesn’t need to know. It’s nothing serious.”

Draco glanced at her then but didn’t contradict her.

“I’ll take you up to your room?” Draco offered when the silence in the kitchen stretched on.

Ginny nodded reluctantly before turning and smiling at Charlie. Her older brother looked between the two, his face clouded with confusion, but he didn’t stop them when they walked past him.  
The route to her bedroom was familiar in a way that nothing else would be, engrained in her since she was young. Already, the tension that had filled her in the kitchen was ebbing away. Each step brought her closer to comfort and, she knew, to answers. Hours ago, the prospect frightened her. Now, it strangely brought relief. 

No more pretending. No more uncertainty. No longer would she be in the dark. She would _know_ her children again. If everything with Draco was ruined, if her memories came back and she realized she was a horrible person, if she hated herself after all this—at least she’d remember Orion, Gray, and Lyra. 

Entering her bedroom, Ginny crawled into her bed without checking to see if Draco was behind her. She knew he was. The bed welcomed her, comfortable despite disuse, and she buried her face in one of the pillows. 

It smelt of cinnamon and honey, like the pies her mum enjoyed making when she was restless. There was also another scent, and Ginny could only assume it was her niece, Rose, who liked sleeping in this room over the summer.

The door clicked shut, and Ginny rolled over to face her husband. Unlike in the kitchen, his face was now relaxed. He took a long look around her bedroom before meeting her stare. What was he thinking? Was he on the same train of thought she was now—how only a week ago he had entered this bedroom but under completely different circumstances? It was strange to remember how off-balance Ginny had felt when Draco had stood in front of her after rushing back from the States, the husband she didn’t know, the man she hated, reading her expressions without her permission, picking up on a conversation she didn’t recall, watching her intently, waiting for _something_. 

Did he remember that moment the same as she did? 

She wanted to say something to break the silence, but nothing would come. This felt like goodbye, in some twisted way. Everything would be different once her memories came back. Ginny almost regretted how quickly she had pushed him to go back home, to make sure the children were okay. If this was goodbye… was this really how she wanted it to play out? 

Without hesitation, Ginny stood from the bed and rushed over to Draco. She threw her arms around him and pulled him close.

“Draco…”

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry for anything I’ve done. I want to understand. I want to fix this. I don’t want us to change. Stay with me. Go to the children. I love you, I love you, I love you…_

Draco’s arms wrapped around her, his hand guiding her head to his chest. She could hear his heart racing. Ginny wondered if there were things he wanted to say now. Would they even make sense to her? Was this really the right thing to do? Maybe he should stay, maybe he’d be able to help her… 

Ginny stepped out of his embrace before she could talk herself out of letting him leave.

“Thank you. For… for being on my side.”

He cocked his head in surprise.

“That first day, when we were fighting and I went to Harry’s… if you hadn’t agreed to help me, this—everything would’ve been a lot harder for me.”

His lips curled in a small smile, as if the memory was one that brought him joy.

“I like when we’re on the same side,” he admitted, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

“Me too.”

She tried to memorize his face as they spoke. What if once she remembered everything he didn’t look at her like this? What if he didn’t smile at her or laugh with her? What if they weren’t on the same side anymore?

No. Ginny couldn’t think like that. She would make it work. She would fix it. Her memoires returning didn’t mean their marriage was over. If anything, the past week proved that Draco wanted to keep working on their marriage. Nothing had to change. 

Right?

Draco reached out and cupped her cheek. His touch calmed her racing mind and she relaxed, leaning into his hand before meeting his gaze. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat when she saw how stormy his eyes had become while she was lost in her thoughts. Slowly, his thumb brushed over her lips; his touch made them part. She struggled to keep her breath steady. Where his thumb had touched her, her skin now tingled.

Without second guessing herself, Ginny lifted her hands and wrapped them in the cloth of Draco’s shirt. Her touch was all the permission he needed. Draco lowered his lips to meet hers; the kiss was gentle, warm, innocent in some strange way. Her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled.

_Mint._

The scent overwhelmed her and she tightened her grip on his shirt, unwilling to let him step away. One of his hands reached up, brushing her hair from her face, as he deepened the kiss. Ginny shivered; even as warmth flooded her body, her heart sank. If they hadn’t been saying goodbye before, they certainly were now.

Then Draco was gone, no longer there to anchor her. 

Ginny swayed and opened her eyes. Draco was almost completely out of the room, his hand on the doorknob. His head was bowed, and when he spoke it was directed to the floor. 

“Rest, Ginny. I’ll send Charlie up in a moment. And…” He paused. “Don’t be afraid.”

He closed the door behind him.

Unconsciously, Ginny twisted her wedding ring with her thumb as she stared at the door. An odd feeling settled over her as she walked back to the bed, relaxing back onto it with a frown.

_Loneliness._

Even when she had initially lost her memory, Ginny had never felt lonely. But now, without Draco beside her, she did. She had asked him to go home to the children and he had. Nonetheless, the dark emotion lingered, heavy in her chest. Resting her left hand on her breast, Ginny stared at the ceiling. 

It was Christmas morning, and she was alone.

The Burrow was so quiet that she could hear Charlie’s muffled voice; Draco must’ve just entered the kitchen. She knew her older brother would be coming up to see her soon, ready to question her over her and Draco’s bizarre behavior. Rolling onto her side, Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. 

She wanted to get this over with. She wanted to go home to see her children, to spend Christmas with her husband. She wanted answers. _Finally_ , she wanted answers. 

Sleep came to her easily, as if it had simply been waiting all along for Ginny to admit defeat and close her eyes. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

_And Ginny remembered._

_She remembered sitting with her friend Maggie at St. Mungo’s, so thankful that she had stayed behind in the locker room with her. If she hadn’t, Maggie’s old boyfriend could’ve killed her when he attacked her. He almost had; the scar along Maggie’s neck proved it. Easily, the memory of Ginny sitting with George as he talked about new inventions for his shop came to mind. It was replaced with her eating lunch with Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Rose and thinking about how much she missed Harry. It was like they weren’t even dating anymore. That memory was swapped for another: she was listening to her coaches drone on about improper conduct outside of the pitch. The talk wasn’t directed completely at her, but she was aware of their eyes on her—there had been plenty of bad press already over rumors that her relationship with Harry wouldn’t last._

_Ginny recalled standing in the shower, the hot water running down her body as she stared blankly at the wall. She hated herself—she hated the gossip and the press and all the bloody rumors because they were right. Harry had come home over two hours ago and had immediately started working on his reports. His eyes hadn’t met hers once, not when he said hello, not when she told him about her day, not when she sat across from him at the kitchen table and offered to make tea. They weren’t going to make it; this relationship was dead where before it used to be full of life—his dedication to his job had torn them apart._

_She would never let work be the most important thing in her life ever again._

_The memory of Rose falling asleep against her chest, of the uniquely innocent smell babies carried, came to her. Rose was one already and growing up so fast, just like Victoire and Dominique and Molly, just like Teddy, who she wouldn’t see nearly as much if she broke up with Harry. The realization was painful._

_It was so simple, suddenly, to reminisce about bringing her kitten, Witherwings, to the Burrow. Arthur had cuddled the kitten against his chest, his eyes closing contently. The pair had fallen asleep on the porch as Ginny and her mum spoke about visiting Charlie in Romania. She remembered sunshine next as she sat in Neville’s garden with Luna and laughed over the garden gnomes Neville couldn’t get rid of._

_“I’d feel awful hexing them,” he said as Ginny snickered into her hand. “Look at them, Gin.”_

_In a flash, she saw herself sitting across Hermione and Luna at Ron and Hermione’s house. Rose was playing with toys on the floor beside them. Her small hand would randomly reach out and grab onto Ginny’s pants, giving the cloth a soft tug. Ginny smiled down at her niece before turning her attention back to her friends._

_They were staring at her expectantly._

_“What?” she asked, eyes wide. “What were you saying?”_

_“Luna wants you to befriend Draco Malfoy,” Hermione informed her, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips._

_Ginny blinked, looking between the pair._

_What?_

_“I’m sorry,” Ginny began slowly. “I missed something, didn’t I? Luna, why would you want me to be friends with Malfoy?”_

_Hermione shrugged, her amusement over the situation shining through. Turning her attention completely to Luna, Ginny tried to figure out if her friend was joking. It was not a simple task. Smiling dreamily, Luna stared at Ginny with her head tilted._

_Speaking of…_

_“Luna, why are you even friends with Malfoy?”_

_It was only a few weeks ago that Luna had surprised Ginny by having Malfoy join them at Split Potion for lunch. Ginny hadn’t had a chance to interrogate Luna over her mad decision to invite the former Death Eater to their weekly get-together—between Ginny’s Quidditch schedule and Luna’s adventures out of country there simply wasn’t time. But she had been awfully curious whenever she thought on it. The trio hadn’t spoken of anything important during the meal, though Ginny and Malfoy bickered the majority of the time. But… Luna hadn’t seemed to mind. She would only jump in when they became particularly vicious with each other._

_Ginny thought of Malfoy’s lifeless eyes and shivered._

_“Hadn’t you noticed?” Luna responded. “Draco’s rather lonely. I went to an event with Rolf for the naturalist committee and found Draco was forced there for work. I began talking to him, much to his displeasure. When I invited him to tea, though, he accepted.”_

_Frowning, Ginny looked away from Luna to the mug cupped in her hands. Malfoy was lonely? How was that possible?_

_“What did you say to him that got him to agree?” Hermione asked._

_Ginny glanced up, curiosity nipping at her. Luna shrugged happily._

_“I told him I didn’t blame him for me being locked up in the dungeons below his house,” Luna told them lightly._

_Jaw dropping, Ginny looked to Hermione and saw she was equally surprised by the admission. Luna continued speaking, unaware or uncaring of Hermione and Ginny’s reactions._

_“And that I’d like for us to become friends. I’m afraid that Draco’s been pushed to the side because of his decisions during the war, despite the fact that he was a child when it all happened. It shows clearly. He’s quite smart but works in a shamefully low position at the Ministry, despite having been there for years; we agree it’s because of his father’s past influence in the government. He can’t get promoted despite putting in for promotions numerous times. No one trusts him to do a good job.”_

_Hermione and Ginny were both frozen, listening to Luna chat idly. To be honest, Ginny had never once thought of Malfoy after Hogwarts. She tried not to think of any former Death Eaters, unless, of course, Harry mentioned in conversation if he had arrested or dueled them._

_“He’d be an excellent choice to help Harry reform Azkaban,” Luna continued. “He won’t listen to me when I tell him that. I think you could get through to him, Ginny.”_

_“Why? Why him? Bloody hell, why me? We could barely get through the meal the other week.”_

_“His father_ is _locked up there,” Hermione mused, eyebrows furrowing. “And he is smart, even if he’s a prat. He was right behind me in grades at Hogwarts, remember? If he were to work with Harry, if they were both willing, it could help heal some of the old wounds from the war. Two enemies coming together to fix a broken-down prison system—Azkaban was a staple of the old administration, wasn’t it? Fudge loved the Dementors, wouldn’t speak against them…”_

_Luna nodded along with Hermione before focusing on Ginny._

_“And I think he enjoys you, Ginny.”_

_Ginny frowned. He enjoyed her? What did that even mean?_

_“Did he tell you that?”_

_“No. But I could see it in his eyes, couldn’t you?”_

_Thinking back on the meal, she tried to remember more about Malfoy. His eyes had seemed lifeless in the beginning, but at the end of the meal, after all their fighting, had they been?_

_The room around Ginny faded. And other memories came to surface. The heartache of breaking up with Harry almost overwhelmed her, feeling so fresh that her chest hurt. Ginny could remember staring at the last box on the floor of their shared flat, his flat now, and knowing this was the right decision even if it was painful. Molly’s face, forlorn, came to mind at the news of the breakup; her mum didn’t want to believe it. Then Ginny recalled sitting across Percy at his desk at the Ministry, teasing him about how utterly boring his office looked. He smiled at her, because it was true, before hiding it. Then he asked her how she felt moving back in with their parents in her late twenties and the moment was ruined._

_Ginny remembered Luna coming to the Burrow the first day she had moved back home, happy that they were neighbors again—even though Luna had long ago moved out of her father’s house. Then, suddenly, she was flying. The wind whipped her hair as she flew beside Maggie, sharing a grin after performing a particularly difficult move without injury during a grueling practice. The first meal she shared with Harry at the Burrow, awkward and painful, came next. She knew they’d see each other all the time and she had to get used to it, but Ginny couldn’t comprehend the loneliness the sight of him brought—she didn’t miss him, per se, but she missed the company._

_But they had talked about Azkaban. Luna had told Harry about potentially bringing Malfoy on board. Harry, so hesitant, asked Ginny what she thought of the plan. Was Malfoy a good choice? Would she be able to convince him to help? Was she even willing to help still, after… everything? Ginny had thought of Hagrid, stuck in Azkaban her first year, and of Sirius, wrongfully convicted, and of Malfoy’s father, wasting away. And she agreed to talk to Malfoy, to continue helping Harry with the project because it was the right thing to do, and a true smile bloomed on his face, directed at her for the first time in months. Relief made his shoulders sag, and they had laughed together and it felt good—_

_Then, suddenly, Ginny remembered Draco._

_They were sitting across each other in a restaurant, surrounded by tables full of happy couples and chattering friends. Ginny had been more than a little surprised that when she wrote to Malfoy about meeting up he had actually agreed. Now, a week after he sent her an owl approving her suggested time and place, they were avoiding each other’s eyes. Why had she picked such a public place? Why had she agreed to do this at all? She hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since the first time Harry came to the Burrow after their breakup._

_Shaking her head, Ginny pasted a large smile on her face and looked at Malfoy._

_“So, Malfoy,” she began before trailing off._

_He had focused on her when she began speaking, his eyes piercing, and it made her lose her train of thought. Luna was right—they certainly weren’t as lifeless as Ginny had previously believed._  
 _“Staring is rather rude, Weasley. Though I suppose I’m not too surprised your parents never taught you manners.”_

_Heat rushed to her cheeks. The scowl came to her mouth naturally, but she forced it away. She was trying to convince him to help Harry. Ginny refused to fight with him, even if the git deserved it._

_“Malfoy,” Ginny tried again. “Thanks for meeting up.”_

_“I’ve reached a rather low point in my life,” he informed her, his eyes leaving hers as he examined the menu. “This is simply another event to signify this. No thanks needed.”_

_Her grip on her glass of water tightened._

_“I’m sure Luna mentioned to you Harry’s plan for Azka—”_

_“Ah, yes,” Malfoy interrupted. “Potter’s brilliant idea to reform the most inept detention center out of all the wizarding communities. Tell me, is he very proud of himself for thinking up this plan to go to the Ministry and ask a favor before passing all the dirty work on to me? Does he view himself very noble?”_

_It happened without her stopping to think about it: Ginny ditched her plan to be civil and polite._

_“After all, I don’t believe our beloved hero has ever been told no. I’m sure he’s simply exhausted himself—”_

_“I’d forgotten how much you have on your plate,” Ginny snapped. “You’ve been working so hard at the Ministry—what is it you do again?”_

_Malfoy’s lips twitched._

_“Wasting all of your time sitting at a desk, working for someone who pays you no mind, who doesn’t value your work,” Ginny paused. “You must be very pleased with yourself.”_

_Malfoy leaned forward, eyes narrowed. She braced herself for his retort, adrenaline pumping through her system. But, instead, the hostility on Malfoy’s face disappeared and he seemed to relax. His gaze darted over her face._

_“I was wondering how long you’d hold up that amicable act. Not long at all,” he observed. “Once again, I can’t say I’m too shocked. You’re rather predicable.”_

_Malfoy’s attention went to the menu again. As Ginny stared in confusion, he continued speaking._

_“I told Lovegood I would do her the favor of meeting up with you. Let’s make this quick and painless, shall we? I have no intention of teaming up with Potter. I’d much rather spend a few months in Azkaban as it is now than do that. Where is the waiter? You would pick a place with such horrible service…”_

_Determination replaced the bewilderment that had coursed through Ginny. Oh, he thought he’d get off that easy? Did he know who she was? Picking up her own menu, Ginny readied her retort—_

_Everything melted away. She could remember her hand against Hermione’s stomach, laughing when the baby kicked. There were nights when she’d go out to the pub with George and Ron; they’d tell the most ridiculous story they could, trying to best the others. George almost always won. Ginny recalled bringing sweets over to Bill’s house, surprising Victoire and Dominique. Her toes were dug into the sand as the children ran by the edge of the water. Bill brought out some pumpkin juice. Victoire asked Ginny to help her build a castle out of pebbles as Bill swung Dominique onto his shoulders._

_It was nice._

_And there were memories of more meetings with Draco. Every time they met up at a fancy restaurant, Ginny questioned why she was even there. Or, more so, why he was still answering her owls and showing up. Maybe she still met up with him because she couldn’t convince him that the plan for Azkaban was a good idea, and she was determined to sway his opinion. Maybe he still met up with her to watch the frustration slowly build in her before she ended up snapping at him—sometimes storming off to the washroom to calm down or throwing her linen at him, causing him to frown scornfully at her._

_Ginny recalled leaving Split Potion with him, the meeting as unsuccessful as the other handful of attempts over the past month. They stood under the overhang, both eyeing the rain unenthusiastically. Her attention was drawn to Malfoy when he pulled a silver case out from inside his cloak. When he popped it open, a row of cigarettes was revealed. Malfoy moved with ease, lifting one to his lips and lighting it with the tip of his wand._

_After he exhaled, the smoke hanging between them, Ginny crossed her arms over her chest._

_“You’re not going to offer me one?”_

_Malfoy took another drag while considering her. A single eyebrow rose high on his forehead._

_“I’m surprised you smoke,” he admitted._

_His eyes were sharp as they looked her over._

_“You know nearly nothing about me,” Ginny retorted._

_“I know you play Quidditch professionally. Or as professionally as being a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies can be considered.”_

_She rolled her eyes, but an amused smile graced her lips. When Malfoy noticed the smile, a look she didn’t recognize colored his face and she forced her amusement away. He was not funny. Ginny wasn’t going to let him think he was entertaining… even if it seemed that his insults now lacked their normal maliciousness. Sometimes they seemed more teasing and mocking than anything else._

_Reaching over, she snagged a cigarette from the case._

_Mimicking Malfoy, Ginny put the cigarette to her lips before lighting it with the tip of her wand. Malfoy was right; she didn’t smoke often. If any of her teammates or coaches saw her, she’d be dead meat. But… if it was a way to share something with the prat, she’d do it._

_Smoking the cigarette also gave her a moment to think. It hit her as they stood beside each other, not touching but almost, that maybe she had been going about this whole thing wrong. Luna had told her that Malfoy enjoyed spending time with her. Ginny hadn’t believed it, not at first, but now she couldn’t help but examine the facts._

_Was there a chance that what Luna had said was true? Did Malfoy actually like spending time with Ginny?_

_He was still meeting up with her, after all. Whenever she wrote him, he wrote back almost right away and was always willing to get together. Sometimes she thought he even seemed… relaxed around her. And, though Ginny didn’t like to admit that Luna could be right about this crazy idea, Luna had always had a bizarrely accurate gift of reading people._

_Was there a better way Ginny could be going about this? These dinners clearly weren’t working._

_“Look, Malfoy,” Ginny mumbled, the cigarette dangling from her mouth. “We need to start doing something else.”_

_“What are you referring to, exactly?”_

_Ginny inhaled before lowering the cigarette beside her. The smoke burned inside her lungs. She let it out slowly before meeting his gaze._

_“As fun as it is eating food with you and having you ignore everything I say, there has to be a better way to spend our time.”_

_He made a sound in his throat, but she wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with her or not. Biting her lip as she let her cigarette burn down, Ginny’s thoughts raced. Now that the idea had entered her head—Malfoy really did like hanging out with her—she couldn’t stop herself from looking at her own feelings on their strange arrangement. Over the past month, she had spent more time with Malfoy than Luna or Neville or Hermione. Everyone was so bloody busy, and Malfoy was the only one who agreed to meet whenever she sent him an owl._

_And she hadn’t ever really hesitated on writing him about meeting up after their initial meeting._

_Her stomach squeezed at the thought._

_While their meals were still weird, they did bounce ideas back and forth about what Harry should put on his newest draft that he planned on giving to the Ministry— often followed by insults or sarcasm. Harry had written up, with Hermione’s help when she wasn’t busy with Rose, at least six different drafts. Malfoy had even begun to have a bottle of wine ordered and ready to share if he beat Ginny to the restaurant. And while they never strayed too far from topic, it was still…_

_Nice? No. It was… entertaining. In some strange way. Though they usually just fought there were still some times that they’d sit in silence and it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sometimes he’d say something that would make her grin. Sometimes she’d say something that would make his eyebrows shoot upwards. There weren’t many instances that she caught Malfoy by surprise. Ugh, her ancestors must be turning in their graves right now._

_The sound of the rain hitting the cobblestone filled the silence between them. She took another drag before speaking._

_“The Arrows are playing next weekend. Fancy going to the game together instead of doing another dinner here?”_

_Malfoy didn’t respond for a long moment. His gray eyes flickered over her, analyzing her in a way that was foreign to her. If it was anyone other than Malfoy looking at her that way she’d almost think… The thought left her when Malfoy nodded slightly. Surprise flitted through her. Ginny hadn’t actually expected him to say yes. She ignored the fact that she was rather pleased about it, that it meant Luna was right, that this was taking their odd relationship to a different level._

_The rain was replaced with a clear, night sky. Her face still felt warm from laughing so hard, surrounded by her family and friends; everyone had come together to celebrate her birthday at the Burrow. Even Charlie. She recalled spending almost every day with Charlie during his trip home. They went to Diagon Alley to visit George’s joke shop, they went to the Ministry to see Percy and Arthur, they spent time at Shell Cottage with Bill and the kids. They passed out on Ron and Hermione’s couch after having some drinks and reminiscing about their childhood with George, Ron, and, very shockingly, Percy._

_Then, suddenly, she was fighting laughter as she left a Quidditch game with Malfoy. Spending time together at Quidditch games was much more fun than their earlier meetups at restaurants. And, yeah, they definitely didn’t talk about Azkaban at all, but it was because the Chudley Cannons had surprisingly played a great game, putting up an amazing defense for the first time in, well, ever._

_“I’d hardly call that game worthy of praise,” Malfoy drawled._

_While Ginny was hardly able to stop the giggles from escaping, her hand covering her mouth as her eyes twinkled, Malfoy displayed very little emotion._

_“Oh, don’t be a git,” she managed to get out. “You’re just upset because I heard you cheering for the Cannons.”_

_His lip curled._

_“I was not cheering for the Cannons.”_

_“Sure,” Ginny laughed. “I must’ve completely made that up, Malfoy.”_

_She started laughing again. Ron wouldn’t believe her when she told him that Malfoy had been excited for the Cannons when their Chaser scored, making the game a tie. Ginny could hardly believe it herself._

_“How about this?” Malfoy said suddenly. “A deal, between the two of us.”_

_Ginny pursed her lips and pointed a finger at him._

_“Are you trying to bribe me for my silence?”_

_Something akin to amusement flickered across his face. Ginny tilted her head, wondering if she saw that right._

_“Indeed.”_

_They stopped walking and Ginny turned to face him completely. The crowd moved around them, as though they were two rocks in a river, forcing the tide to part. When she met his gaze, warmth flashed through her before settling low in her stomach._

_She inhaled sharply at the feeling._

_“If you don’t spread the lie that I cheered during this game—” Ginny snorted. He continued on. “—then I give you permission to call me by my first name.”_

_“You give me permission?” Ginny repeated without thinking. “What an honor.”_

_Who did he think he was? Bloody prat. Ginny rolled her eyes and kept walking, aware that Malfoy was following behind her. Looking over her shoulder, their eyes locked. In that brief moment she realized, in some way, maybe it did mean something to him. He certainly never called her by her first name. They never had! But… but their relationship was different now than it had been at Hogwarts._

_Malfoy—Draco—wasn’t the person she had thought he was. As much as Ginny hated to admit it, it was true. The more time she spent with him, the more she was forced to realize that Malfoy was so much more than anyone knew. Perhaps this was him extending a hand of… friendship. Or something more than they currently were. If he was telling her she could call him by his first name, even if he did it in his own arrogant way, it meant he respected her enough to cross a line they had never crossed before._

_She felt him behind her and found herself turning and saying “Fine, Draco, you’ve got yourself a deal.” And she swore, for a moment, his cheeks had gone pink._

_Ginny was no longer at a Quidditch match. She was sitting next to Maggie in the locker room, complaining about their overbearing captains. Then, in a flash, Ginny was rushing to St. Mungo’s; Hermione was in labor. The whole family was there, even Harry. Most of the wait, Ginny sat beside Harry, talking about his latest draft in a whisper. Molly continued to look at the pair excitedly; even after being broken up for a couple months now, her mum truly believed Harry and Ginny would get back together._

_But when Ginny looked at Harry she no longer felt the staggering loneliness she had before. As they discussed Azkaban, as Harry spoke about his lack of confidence in the project if Malfoy didn’t join, Ginny didn’t once feel like she really missed her ex-boyfriend. If she wanted to get back together with Harry, she would miss him, right? If she had made the wrong decision, she’d realize it by now, surely. It was refreshing to recognize… they were better separate than together. And they could still do things together even if they weren’t in a relationship. They could be happy and normal and work together and everything could be okay._

_She was no longer at St. Mungo’s, meeting Hugo with the family._

_Suddenly, Draco was such a heavy presence in her memories that she could hardly process the meaning of it all. They were in Diagon Alley, looking over some of the newer Quidditch equipment together. He bought her a pair of gloves she had been meaning to buy for ages, indifferent as he told her it was a late birthday present. She was sitting on her bed at the Burrow, alone and bored, and a large eagle owl arrived at her window. He had written her a short, sarcastic letter that made her laugh more than it should have. Getting ice cream together, the hem of her dress brushing against her thighs, they were enjoying the summer weather and talking about the latest Ministry scandals—it was so hard to stay on topic and talk about reforming Azkaban nowadays, but neither of them seemed to mind too terribly._

_Then they were in the center of a crowd; everyone around them cheered when the Chaser threw the Quaffle through the hoops, and Draco was staring at her, expression unreadable at her admittance. But it was true, he wasn’t the same person he had been during the war, he deserved to know, and… and Draco was pressing his lips to her own. His expression was vulnerable when he pulled back, but she wasn’t disgusted. No, no, the smile on her lips was certainly the unexpected answer to the question his kiss had asked._

_Abruptly she was at a Ministry event, far more dressed up than she liked to be. It was her first charity event and, while she had been initially excited over getting ready and going to something close to a ball, she had been dreadfully bored the first hour. Luna was supposed to be her date but had to cancel last minute; Rolf wanted her to join him to study a large infestation of ghouls in Scotland, and Ginny couldn’t really guilt Luna to refuse her husband. It left her with no one to entertain her though, as none of her brothers would join her. At one point, she had been so over the event that she had looked to escape, her eyes finding the nearest exit._

_That’s when she had spotted him._

_And he had seen her._

_Malfoy—Draco—had made his way over to her right away. It was a rush of surprising emotions that hit Ginny then; she was happy to see him, excited to have someone she enjoyed spending time with able to keep her company, relieved that he had come over to her right away, and… nervous. The last time they had been together he had kissed her for the first time._

_No, not first time. Only time. Last time. It couldn’t happen again. Ginny couldn’t go around kissing Draco, even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t._

_But he remained by her side over the next hour of the event, muttering to her from the corner of his mouth, making her laugh when she didn’t want to. She found her eyes lingering on him randomly, appreciating the curve of his lips, the cutting line of his jaw, his long fingers as they drummed on the table. It was halfway through the event, when desserts were being served, that Ginny’s attention was forced away from Draco._

_Someone had pulled out the seat beside her and fell into it. Their arm brushed Ginny’s and she looked away from Draco to the stranger, surprise making her eyes wide. Her stomach dropped._  
 _Bloody Blaise Zabini sat beside her, a wide smile stretched across his mouth as his dark eyes looked over her. He leaned back in the seat casually and interlaced his fingers over his stomach._

_“Ginevra Weasley!” he called loudly._

_The woman at the table behind them jumped at the volume of his voice. Ginny glanced at Draco, who had previously been smirking but whose expression was now closed off, then back to Zabini. Zabini bared his teeth as his grin widened._

_“Please,” she said dryly. “Have a seat.”_

_Zabini leaned forward excitedly._

_“I haven’t seen you since Hogwarts. What a surprise it was for me to find you sharing a meal with my dear friend, Draco! It’s nice to see that bad blood from the past no longer lingers between us.”_

_Her eyebrows rose skeptically. Ginny had never got on well with Zabini at school, though he hadn’t been anywhere as bad as Draco had been. She was actually surprised that Draco and Zabini got on well at all—they hadn’t seemed like friends at Hogwarts. Since Draco wasn’t yelling for Zabini to leave them alone, though, she was forced to assume they were friends now._

_“I’m not sure you’re included in that sentiment,” Ginny told him when Draco said nothing._

_Zabini let out a startled laugh before turning his attention to the other person at the table._

_“Draco, mate, have you been sneaking behind our backs all this time to spend some alone time with this…” Zabini trailed off for a moment, his head tilting to the side._

_Draco’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Ginny wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for the fact that she had her gaze fastened on his face—she had never seen him interact with someone who knew him. Was he warning Zabini to not say something?_

_If it was a warning, though, it didn’t matter. Zabini reached out blindly, his hand finding Ginny’s shoulder. She jumped at the unexpected contact._

_“This lovely Weasley,” Zabini finished._

_Draco’s lips twitched and he tapped his fingers against the table. He was clearly unamused by Zabini._

_“Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy, so sorry to interrupt, but have you met—”_

_A man Ginny didn’t recognize began talking quickly in Draco’s ear. She tried to focus on the conversation but Zabini tapped her on the shoulder. Pursing her lips, Ginny met his eyes._

_“Is it true then?” he asked._

_“What?”_

_“You’ve been the one Draco has been spending all his time with. Is that true?”_

_Ginny blinked._

_“We’re not together all the time,” she replied._

_Zabini rolled his eyes._

_“Of course, not all the time. Does saying that make you feel better?” He paused but not long enough for her to respond. “I’m surprised to see you without a date. You were always rather popular with the boys at Hogwarts, weren’t you? Did you lose some of your charm? A bit ruined after your relationship with the great Harry Potter?”_

_“Fuck off, Zabini,” Ginny growled._

_The words left her mouth without her thinking, and she saw Draco’s head snap towards them. Zabini, though, seemed hardly offended. Instead he let out a delighted laugh._

_“I’m simply curious, no need to get angry, Ginevra.”_

_“Zabini,” Draco’s voice cut across the table, ignoring the man talking to him._

_Zabini waved at Draco, as if to silence him. Then he leaned in close to Ginny, and her eyes narrowed. Draco, she saw from her peripheral vision, was beginning to show traces of panic; she hadn’t seen such a look on his face in almost a decade._

_“If you were in need of a date, you must know that one gentleman at this table would’ve been more than happy to accompany you.” His eyes meaningfully left hers to look at Draco before looking back to her. “A simple kiss, I’m sure, would’ve done the trick.”_

_Her face, which had been warm from anger, drained of blood. Was he—did he—there was no way Draco told him about the kiss, right? Horror bloomed in her chest as Zabini’s smile grew. This was some twisted joke, wasn’t it? Draco kissed her and then, what, laughed with his mates about it? Is that why Zabini had brought up Harry? Was she viewed as some prize to be won?_

_Inhaling sharply through her nose, Ginny stood from the table. She was afraid to look at Draco—at Malfoy. Hexes were already on the tip of her tongue, but, no, this wasn’t the place. So, instead, she turned and walked away without another word. It was one of the first times Ginny had kept her rage at bay, all too aware of the people around them. This wasn’t the place._

_“Oh, come now, I was just—Draco, really, I was joking. She doesn’t get my sense of humor, is all! Draco, ah, don’t be hasty—”_

_Ginny couldn’t hear Zabini’s voice any longer as she navigated through the tables. Conversations from the tables drifted towards her, but she could hardly focus. Her hands were shaking and her body felt both hot and cold at the same time. She needed to get away from all these people._

_She had been spending time with Draco at least once a week now for over two months. Merlin, Ginny had thought they were friends. When he had kissed her she had… she hadn’t hated it. In all honesty, Ginny found herself thinking about it far more than she should. But if Zabini knew—if Draco was telling just anyone—if Zabini was going to mock her for it… Bloody hell, what had she been thinking?_

_Ginny had been hanging out with a Malfoy for months! Had considered him a friend! Had tried to make him laugh and had talked about her job and gone to Quidditch games with him and…_

_Once she was out of the ballroom, Ginny moved as far away from the random people in the foyer as possible. The event was being held at some Ministry official’s manor and it was lovely, really, but Ginny wanted to be anywhere but here now. She went down the corridor, past the bathrooms, wishing she could get the fuck out of this place, when she spotted doors that led outside. Yanking them open, Ginny stepped  
out into the gardens. _

_No one else was here._

_She kicked the door shut behind her before stepping out of view. Then Ginny leaned against the wall and dropped her head in her hands. Ugh, she was such an idiot. First man to kiss her after Harry and she lets it be Malfoy? What if Draco told Harry? What if he had done this all to rub it in Harry’s face?_

_That seemed a bit dramatic, but… but… No, it was dramatic. And it didn’t really add up, did it? She was the one making a big deal out of this, wasn’t she? Merlin, she was twenty-seven! What did it matter if she had kissed Draco? And why did she care if he told his friends about it? Most people did that. Perhaps she should be more worried that_ she _hadn’t told anyone about it. What did that say about her? It was only a kiss._

_A kiss she wouldn’t mind repeating._

_The sound of the door opening stilled her thoughts and she looked up._

_“I didn’t tell Zabini.”_

_Draco stepped away from the door, towards her, cautiously, as though approaching a wild animal. She found it hard to respond, perhaps because he had never looked at her this way before. Hesitant. Wary. Nervous._

_“I didn’t,” he repeated. “Blaise… wanted to see your reaction. He finds enjoyment in sticking his nose in other people’s business, and I haven’t been giving him much information about what I’ve been doing in my spare time the past few months. He’s rather annoying but, sadly, he is a friend of mine, and he had an idea I might’ve been spending time with you. That’s the only reason why he said anything at all, why he even came to our table.”_

_“Why haven’t you told him where you were, then?”_

_But even as the words left her mouth, Ginny knew it didn’t matter. Draco had been spending most of his time with Ginny, and she with him, and they had kissed and—and she wanted to do it again. Without any thought at all, Ginny reached for Draco. Her hands wrapped in the fine cloth of his dress robes, and she had to tug him towards her to get him to move from his spot. Merlin, she never realized how much muscle he had despite his lean figure—it took more than a bit of strength to get him to move._

_His eyes were sharp as he stared down at her._

_Then she kissed him._

_He moved as soon as her lips grazed his, as though the touch brought life back to him. Draco wrapped one hand in her hair and the other settled low on her back. Ginny knew she should make the kiss quick like their last one, but…_

_While their kiss at the Quidditch game had been a quick taste of each other, this… this was much different._

_Perhaps it was because she initiated the kiss this time, because the caution that Draco had displayed before wasn’t present. He pressed close to her, his chest brushing her breasts, his lips coaxing hers open, an intensity in his actions that she hadn’t seen or felt before. Heat rushed through her at the contact. The warmth was unexpected and almost foreign; it had been ages since raw lust had raced through her system. It made her heart race. Ginny didn’t realize how much she had ached to be touched, to be wanted, until then._

_While there was no way to determine his true feelings for her, Ginny couldn’t deny that Draco desired her. Even if she ignored the passion he displayed now as he pulled her closer, there were other signs. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest as she released her grip on his robes in order to explore him more. His hands moved as they kissed, tracing her body, sending sparks over her skin everywhere he touched her. He pressed into her and she let him, stepping back only half a step before finding support from the wall behind her._

_They broke apart when they needed air. Their heavy breathing filled the silence. Well aware that she was shaky from the rush of adrenaline that came from Draco touching her, Ginny lowered her hands so he wouldn’t notice his effect on her. Then she met his eyes._

_A smile colored her face when she saw how disheveled Draco was._

_Suddenly she was no longer outside with Draco. Now Ginny sat on the floor of the Burrow, cradling baby Hugo against her chest as her mum and Hermione chatted in the kitchen. Luna was across from her, entertaining Rose with a flower she had plucked from outside. Ginny was trying not to laugh at the confusion coloring Rose’s face each time Luna made the flower change colors. Then she was flying, the air rushing through her hair, as she kept an eye on Maggie. Any moment now Maggie was going to throw the Quaffle to her, and, if Ginny managed to get it past the Keeper, there was no way the Harpies weren’t going to win this match._

_In a flash, Ginny was helping Arthur in his shed, affection filling her as her dad excitedly talked about maybe getting ‘one of those telly things’ like Hermione and Ron had. Ginny was now meeting with Draco for tea, a smile blooming on her face when he pulled out the chair for her. Instead of sitting across from her like normal, he sat in the seat to her left. More than once, their hands brushed, making her cheeks warm. The scene melted away, and, in the blink of an eye, she was at the Ministry, meeting with Harry and Luna quickly during his lunch break. Harry was showing them the latest draft that Hermione had helped edit. When he asked if Ginny was making any headway with Draco, she found herself lying—Malfoy’s not ready yet, but there was a good chance that, soon enough, he will be— and she was almost ashamed of herself. It was hard to recall the last time she had spent more than a few minutes talking to Draco about reforming Azkaban._

_Abruptly everything around her disappeared and the only light Ginny saw was the flames of several candles lit in a slightly familiar room. She was at Draco’s house. Ginny’s body was hot, her breathing erratic, her heart racing. All she knew in that moment was Draco as he pressed his lips against the softness of her neck. His one hand was under her dress, warming a path slowly up her thigh, and the other was gently pushing her legs apart so he could settle more comfortably in between them. She shivered when his lips left her neck; he lowered to his knees, lightly biting the sensitive skin on her inner thigh._

_“Draco—” she gasped, wrapping a hand in his hair on instinct._

_The fact that she called him by his first name, such a rare occurrence, caught his attention. His eyes flickered up to her own, dark and stormy._

_“Yes?” he drawled._

_The warmth of his breath hit the thin cloth of her knickers, stirring up something hot and shameless deep inside of her. They had only ever intensely snogged before and if she let this happen it would surely change their relationship. She should put a stop to this, really, she should._

_“Weasley?”_

_Ginny focused on him, realizing the rush of feelings hitting her made it hard to think. He was waiting for her to make a decision, as though he knew exactly what was going through her mind. Her body ached for more though, half begging to feel his lips all over her, and she took an unsteady breath. It was just sex, right? Sex was—it was—not a big deal. They’d be fine, this was fine, they were both adults, and Ginny knew Draco’s tongue and his lips, they could do amazing things, and she hadn’t been properly shagged or touched or kissed there since before she broke up with Harry—_

_Something must’ve shown on her face for Draco smirked and then he kissed her inner thigh again, this time much closer—_

_She remembered being at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with George and Angelina and Angelina commenting on how happy Ginny seemed to be. Then Ginny was at Rolf and Luna’s newest house, a small cottage that suited the pair perfectly, and she caught herself staring wistfully at the cheerful couple. When Ginny was young, she assumed by now she’d be happily married just like Rolf and Luna. It was unsettling to think about how different her life was than how she had assumed it would be._

_Ginny recalled waking up at Draco’s house many times, wrapped in his silk sheets, playing with his hair until he finally stirred from sleep. They’d cook breakfast together or go get pastries in town. But the feeling of uneasiness, of becoming more and more aware of the situation she was in, began to sneak into every memory. And Ginny had never been one to deny her feelings; she liked Draco. She liked everything about their situation, so much so that she wanted more._

_She wanted him, all of him._

_So she hid away at the Burrow, in an attempt to detangle herself from Draco. He was rather like Devil’s Snare, she supposed, in that he had crept up on her without her even realizing. One moment they had hated each other, then the next they were eating meals together, discussing reforming Azkaban, and then, abruptly, they were familiarizing themselves with each other’s bodies in a way that meant so much more than either had expected…_

_When Draco came to find her, taking a seat on the floor of her childhood bedroom, begrudgingly playing with Witherwings, Ginny couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling as lost as she was. When he asked if she was avoiding him, she braced herself. It was time to tell the truth, but not here, not in her bedroom, not in the Burrow._

_Ginny was suddenly in the field by the trees, her favorite spot to spend time in as a child. Surrounded by the forest, the tall grass brushing her fingertips as she walked further into the meadow, Ginny felt  
at home. And it felt right to have Draco beside her. A storm was approaching in the distance. It was far enough that Ginny knew they wouldn’t be caught in the rain anytime soon, but it made the wind harsh, whipping her hair from the haphazard braid she had put it in. Leaves fell from the branches as the trees moaned and swayed from the sudden gusts, and she inhaled deeply. _

_Draco did the same beside her._

_Raw magic burned her nose, and she shivered. This was why she loved this place._

_“Are you going to tell me the truth now?” he asked, his words filling the space between them._

_She could feel his eyes on her and turned to meet his stare. Nervousness pooled in her stomach. Ginny never had issues admitting she liked someone—when she liked someone, it always overtook her—but this was different. This was Malfoy. It was… it was Draco, who was by far the most complicated person Ginny had ever invested herself in. Everything could go wrong. If she told him she liked him, that she wanted more from their relationship, he could easily shut her out. He could realize what a mistake sleeping with her had been._

_But he had come to find her when she had been avoiding him. He had kissed her first. That meant something, right?_

_Licking her lips, she pressed forward, determined to stick to her earlier decision of telling him the truth._

_“I… I like you. More than just the shagging and snogging and—” She took a deep breath. It wasn’t calming that she couldn’t read his expression. Bracing herself, she continued. “—more than just our stupid bickering. Which, honestly, is rather fun sometimes, right?”_

_A single eyebrow rose, the only indication that he heard her._

_“This is stupid, I know. Our whole relationship has just been… confusing and a whirlwind and I’m sure this isn’t what you wanted when Luna invited you to lunch with me all those months ago, but…. but this is where I’m at. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. You’re right. For once. I’ve been avoiding you.”_

_Ginny realized she was rambling and took another deep breath in order to stop. Twisting her hands in front of her, she took that moment to listen to the rainfall in the distance. It calmed her, deep down, and she took a hesitant step towards Draco._

_“I want us to be more… if that makes sense.”_

_Draco cocked his head to the side and put his hands in his pockets. He hadn’t looked away from her the whole time she spoke. As she stared at him, she thought there was something different in his eyes. A tranquility she had never seen before. Then Draco breathed in slowly before reaching out. His fingers brushed away some hair from her face before trailing down her cheek._

_“I want us to be more too,” he told her._

_It felt like the words had been forcefully drug from his throat, as though he hadn’t wanted them to escape, but Ginny didn’t care. Over the course of almost two months, Draco had only touched her five times before finally kissing her. Then he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Then, in the short span of time over the past month when they learned more about each other than either thought possible, he had been silent when it came to voicing his thoughts._

_Was it really that surprising that he had difficulty telling her his feelings now? But he did. He did tell her._

_Relief came over her so suddenly she felt lightheaded. The feeling of Draco’s fingertips pressed against her jaw helped steady her. She let out a shaky laugh._

_“I’m happy to hear it,” she said, her voice catching._

_Draco’s lips twisted into a smirk but it looked somehow softer, more like a smile than anything else she had ever seen on him. His hand left her face and caught her own hand, tugging her closer. Ginny stared up at him. The sky went white from a flash of lightning, highlighting Draco. When she pressed herself closer to him, rising on her toes to get nearer to him, he was already lowering his head to meet her halfway. A crack of thunder swallowed all other sound when their lips touched._

_But, no, it wasn’t thunder. It was the sound of something breaking, forcing Ginny awake._

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

“Ah, shit, sorry.”

Ginny peered at the blurry form in front of her before rubbing her eyes. Then she noticed it was Charlie, standing in the doorway of her bedroom, looking oddly flushed. What was going on? Sitting up slowly, Ginny took a look at her surroundings. She was in her bedroom at the Burrow… Where was Draco? He had just been here—no, no, that was her dream.

Her memory.

Running her hands over her face, Ginny offered Charlie a tired smile when he continued to hesitate in the doorway. He visibly relaxed at the sight of it and moved further into her room. She noticed then that he was carrying a tray with some food on it.

“Dropped the orange juice,” he explained as he placed the tray on her bedside table. 

Charlie waved his wand and the mess on the floor disappeared. When he continued looking around her room awkwardly, Ginny moved over in the bed and patted the space beside her.

“Come on, get in.”

He grinned and sat in the spot she had vacated. Automatically, she rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her. Their breathing was in sync before he spoke.

“How’s it been going, then? Remembering everything?” 

“Yeah…” she said hesitantly. “It’s weird. It’s like a dream, but… It’s not, you know? I remember… breaking up with Harry, having to move back in with Mum and Dad, practicing Quidditch all the time with Maggie.”

She licked her lips as Charlie nodded.

“Sounds confusing. And weird. It was all so long ago,” Charlie murmured comfortingly, tightening his hold on her. “Sorry you’re going through all this, Gin.”

Ginny shrugged.

“I mean... I’ve remembered a lot of good things. You coming home for my birthday, and us spending the week together. Hermione having Hugo. Rose being a little baby. Molly, Victoire, Dominique, all so young. And Draco. I remember Draco.”

Charlie made a sound in his throat and pulled away from her in order to grab the tray from the table. Out of everyone, Ginny had always considered Charlie the most empathetic brother, despite the fact that he got along best with dragons. He always let her talk out her thoughts without interrupting and always kept her secrets best. And, somehow, he never seemed to judge her and always seemed to understand, even when there was no way he could. 

Like now.

“He loves you a lot, you know,” Charlie noted, as he placed the tray on the bed in front of them. “Was a bit of a wreck when he finally left here.”

Ginny eyed the bacon and pancakes on the tray before reaching out and grabbing a piece of the meat. She popped it in her mouth so she didn’t have to respond right away. There was still so much she had to remember, and it seemed more and more that her family and friends had no idea of the turmoil in her marriage. It was hard to respond to the observation that Charlie made when she was still left in the dark about so much. 

“How long have I been sleeping?” 

“‘Bout two hours,” he replied, as he snagged a piece of bacon. “I wrote Mum telling her I was going to take a nap so she wouldn’t Floo back here. I’m going to have to leave soon, though, or we’ll all face her wrath.”

She nodded, yawning. Merlin, she was so tired still. It felt like she hadn’t slept at all. With how much she remembered, though, Ginny couldn’t really be surprised. Was she even really resting?

“I’ll be fine alone.”

Charlie snorted.

“You think we’d let you be here alone?” he asked. At her look of confusion, Charlie shrugged. “Draco’s going to have someone else come by here soon. Not sure who, though.”

“Has he written?”

“Yeah. In case you woke up, I think. He said the children are fine, that they miss you, of course, but not to worry. He said Orion is asking some questions, but Lyra and Gray are distracted by the presents.”

Her heart squeezed at the thought of Orion, the only child she had told the complete truth about her memory loss. He would certainly realize something was going on, something more complex than whatever Draco had told him. Desperation hit her; the desire to see her children, to be back at the house with her family, was so overwhelming it was hard to breathe for a moment.

Charlie cut a piece of the pancake with a fork and held it up to her. He stared at her meaningfully.

“I suspect it’s best for you to eat this and go back to sleep.” 

Taking the fork from him, Ginny ate the food he offered. After a few minutes, and with some help from her brother, the plate was empty. Exhaustion was already washing over her as she settled under the covers. Surprisingly, Charlie got under the covers with her and opened his arms to her. 

Her eyebrows rose.

“You should head to Bill’s.”

“I’m not leaving yet. Gotta wait for the other person to come still. Come on, now.”

Just as she did when she younger and had a nightmare, Ginny wrapped her arms around Charlie and rested her head on his chest. He pulled the comforter up so the majority of their bodies were covered. Warmth basked her and, combined with Charlie’s steady breathing and the tiredness that was already settled deep in her bones, Ginny fell back asleep. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~


	13. Day Eight, Part Three

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

_It was a dreary day when Draco changed his mind._

_They had been sitting together on his couch, the hearth lit to keep his house warm without magic. Her legs were tangled in his as he looked over Ministry documents and she flipped through the Daily Prophet. Honestly, the newspaper was complete trash. Why she even read it anymore she didn’t know. Perhaps it was pure habit. Maybe it was because during her sixth year at Hogwarts, when she had been left with Neville and Luna to defend the school from the Carrows, she had been almost obsessed with checking the newspaper everyday despite knowing they didn’t print any facts._

_All she had wanted back then was to find an ounce of truth about the status of her loved ones._

_But, a decade later, they were still writing garbage. Though, she couldn’t help but think, their garbage was certainly getting closer to the truth now than it had been before. Articles had begun springing up over the past month about a possible relationship between the sole heir to the Malfoy estate and the youngest Weasley. Of course, everyone viewed it as hearsay._

_If only the reporters knew how close to the truth they actually were._

_Sighing through her nose, Ginny tossed the Daily Prophet onto the floor. She willed herself to relax, to not bring up the latest article to Draco like she’d desperately wanted to the past few weeks. After the first time she had showed him an article—on page seven, approximately six sentences of pure gossip about their relationship— Draco had asked her to not waste his time with such nonsense. If he didn’t care, why should she?_

_Slouching down, Ginny shifted her position until her head rested comfortably against the arm of the couch. Her socked feet were now pushing against the hard muscles of Draco’s chest. His eyes flickered from the report to meet her own, a glimmer of something in his gaze. Then he went back to reading. After listening to the rain outside for a long moment, Ginny closed her eyes._

_This house had become something of a home to her the past few weeks. Once Draco and Ginny decided to take their relationship to the next step—which consisted of far more laughing, touching, talking, and bickering without fear of consequence—she found herself staying at Draco’s house more and more. They were relatively undisturbed here, except for when Zabini yelled for Draco in the early morning hours from the Floo, drunk. And his house was… nice. Not nearly as homey and well-worn as the Burrow, but, maybe, that’s why she liked it so much. She worried that soon her parents would realize her lie of staying at Luna’s house when she was out of town and question her—_

_“I’m going to quit my job tomorrow.”_

_Ginny’s eyes snapped open. Draco was still looking over the report, marking sections that would need to be edited later with his quill. Had he said what she thought he’d said? Or had she made it up? She sat up slowly, trying to read his expression. His lips were turned down in a slight frown that he wore when stressed._

_When she went to question him, Draco began speaking again._

_“I’ve decided to work with Potter.”_

_“On what?” Ginny asked, eyebrows furrowing._

_Draco put the report down; the papers ended up resting against her shins. The frown he had been wearing was gone now as he looked her over, instead replaced with a small smirk._

_“Weasley. Is your memory truly that horrible?”_

_There was something affectionate in his tone, and the familiar desire to lean forward, to kiss his smirk till it disappeared, filled her. She ignored the longing. Instead she pushed her foot against his stomach in warning. Unsurprisingly, it only made his lips stretch wider. What was he talking about with Harry? Why would he—_

_“Azkaban? You’re talking about Azkaban?”_

_“You’re a quick one, aren’t you?”_

_She launched herself at him, sending his report flying. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Ginny let out an excited shout. Draco’s breath left him in a whoosh from the impact before he began chuckling. The sound vibrated deep in his chest. Ginny leaned back so she could get a better view of his face._

_“You’re serious? You’re going to help Harry with Azkaban? I didn’t think you were interested! We haven’t talked about it in ages. Have you told him? That’s why you’re quitting your job?”_

_Ginny knew she was rambling eagerly but it didn’t seem to bother Draco. He was tenderly looking at her as she spoke and it was only when she realized he wasn’t responding that she abruptly stopped. She climbed off him and sat on the edge of the coffee table. Pointing a finger at him, she tried to seem less thrilled, adopting a more serious tone._

_“Speak,” she ordered._

_He sighed dramatically before sitting up. Mirroring her position, Draco faced her. His knees knocked hers._

_“I wasn’t interested,” he agreed. “Not at first. I had only started meeting up with you about Azkaban because I had told Lovegood I would. While the idea of reforming the place intrigued me, I hardly thought it possible. Then I became distracted from talks about Azkaban altogether…”_

_His eyes met hers as he trailed off. A shiver raced up and down her spine._

_Draco cleared his throat._

_“A few days ago, Lovegood sent over the latest draft that Potter had written up and I read through it.”_

_Luna only ever sent Ginny mail. She frowned._

_“You read my mail?” Ginny interrupted._

_“Our mail, Weasley,” Draco corrected her. “She addressed it to both of us. You weren’t here and I had nothing better to do than attempt to keep that menace away from me.”_

_He stared pointedly over her shoulder, and Ginny turned around to see Witherwings sleeping by the fire. She looked back, grinning._

_“So, you liked it, then?”_

_“It’s better than any of the others we went over. I met with Potter the other day. We go to see the Minister in three weeks to present the plan.”_

_Ginny’s jaw dropped in surprise. They were going to see Kingsley in three weeks? This was huge! And if Draco had already met with Harry, if they had discussed this civilly together, if they had actually agreed… it would mean that Draco wouldn’t have to work in such a horrible position at the Ministry any longer. It would mean that Azkaban could potentially get the help it needed to become something more. It meant so much._

_From the gleam in Draco’s eyes, she knew he agreed._

_She wasn’t sitting across from Draco any longer. No, now Ginny sat at the familiar, large kitchen table at the Burrow. Her whole family was there, except for Charlie. Rose was seated comfortably in Ginny’s lap, banging silverware against the plate and table. When George and Angelina made their announcement, Ginny didn’t hear it the first time. It was only when the family began cheering, when Molly began crying, that Ginny realized what happened._

_“You’re engaged?” she almost screamed, making George burst out into laughter._

_Then Ginny was meeting with Maggie for lunch, avoiding the sly questions that her friend kept asking. She was well aware that Maggie thought she was seeing someone, but it wasn’t the time, not yet, to tell anyone about her relationship with Draco. First, Ginny had to tell her family. But when Maggie pulled out a clip from the Daily Prophet, the one from two weeks ago that showed Draco and Ginny smiling as they walked through Diagon Alley, she realized she had no choice but to admit defeat and tell someone. When Maggie congratulated her, immediately ordering two glasses of champagne for the table and being obnoxiously excited, a wave of relief hit Ginny so hard it took her a moment to focus._

_Maybe it was because she was somewhat terrified to tell people about Draco. Perhaps it was because Maggie seemed genuinely happy for her. Or, maybe, it was because Ginny hadn’t been this happy in so long and it was with Draco and Ginny wasn’t sure anyone would understand and she hated not talking to anyone about this—_

_Ginny was at Luna’s house, listening to Rolf ramble on about their latest findings on dung beetles. They had just returned from Egypt and Luna’s skin was somehow still so pale. Rolf, however, had come back almost three shades darker. She tried to hide her amusement at his obnoxious tan lines when he took his glasses off to wipe them clean._

_Suddenly she was in bed with Draco. Morning light shined through his curtains, and a trill of satisfaction raced through her when she heard his breath catch. This was the first morning in so long that they had extra time in bed together and she planned on taking full advantage of it. Ginny gently bit Draco’s shoulder as her hands wandered below his stomach and a low, animalistic moan escaped him._

_The bright bedroom was replaced with the dim lights of the Three Broomsticks. Merlin, it was crowded today. There was hardly any room at the table for Ron, Harry, Neville, Hermione, and Ginny, but she took the smallest spot, as she often had to, squished by the window. A cold draft was coming in from cracks in the glass, tickling the exposed skin of her neck. She shivered and took a long sip of her butterbeer before focusing on the conversation around her._

_“—don’t know if the Ministry is going to go for it, do we? Haven’t two dozen people come up with solutions for it?” Ron was saying, waving his drink around._

_Hermione dodged to the right, bumping into Neville, as she avoided some of the spillage._

_“Go for what?” Neville inquired._

_“Their plan for Azkaban,” Ron said, pointing his drink towards Harry and Ginny, who were sitting beside each other._

_Ginny glanced sharply at Harry. Had he told Ron? The sheepish expression he shot back at her confirmed her suspicion._

_Neville turned a curious gaze to Ginny and Harry._

_“What makes your plan different, then?”_

_Hermione put her chin in her hand in an attempt to cover her smirk but Ginny saw right through it. It was the first time since Hermione had had Hugo that she’d really been able to get out of the house with Ron and spend time with friends. Despite being extremely busy with the new baby, though, Hermione had been informed of Draco’s sudden decision to work with Harry. Ginny didn’t like the amused sparkle in Hermione’s gaze._

_“Well, we have the Chosen One’s name on it,” Ginny instantly said, knocking elbows with Harry._

_He glowered at her._

_Ron’s forehead puckered._

_“You can’t just throw Harry’s name around, Gin. You know he hates that.”_

_“I forgot how sensitive you are to Harry’s emotions,” Ginny retorted, rolling her eyes._

_“Oh, shut it,” Ron mumbled. “He’s my best mate.”_

_Harry raised his mug in cheers._

_“Is that it? Harry’s name on the plan? You think Kingsley will even look at it?” Neville mused, his face scrunched up in thought._

_“Well, it’s a good plan. And Hermione’s been looking over it—”_

_Hermione’s eyebrows rose. Harry and Ginny simultaneously shook their heads at Hermione, somehow both knowing what she was about to do, but she ignored them._

_“Harry’s name isn’t the only one they have on it,” Hermione informed Ron and Neville._

_“Who’s the other person?” Ron asked, his eyes darting between his best friend and sister._

_Ginny snuck a glance at Harry but he seemed content to avoid the conversation, instead taking long, slow sips of his butterbeer. She almost stomped on his foot. Instead she smiled brightly._

_Better to get this over with now versus later._

_“Well, you’ll never believe it but Draco Malfoy’s decided to take part in it with us.”_

_Silence reigned over the table. Ron was frozen, except for his mouth, which opened and closed wordlessly. Neville was frowning._

_“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” Hermione told them briskly. “It can help heal old war wounds—”_

_“You’ve got to be bloody kidding,” Ron choked out, cutting his wife off. “Malfoy? Malfoy? When have you guys even been talking to him? I thought he moved to France or somewhere far, far away! He’s—he’s a Death Eater! He’ll just—he’ll mess with the security, won’t he, Harry? You know how rotten he is—”_

_“He was sixteen when he joined Voldemort,” Ginny reminded Ron sharply. “I hardly think that counts as voluntary compliance to work for the most dangerous wizard of all time.”_

_Ron glared at her._

_“You’re defending him? After everything his family’s done to us?”_

_Her stomach clenched but she tried to ignore it. No one except Maggie knew the truth about her relationship with Draco. And, honestly, how did she think Ron would react? Draco and Ron had never been friendly with each other. Hell, it had taken her weeks to view him as anything other than a spoiled prat when they first started meeting up._

_But as much as Ginny tried to push away her annoyance at Ron’s tone she couldn’t. It was instinct at this point to defend Draco and the idea of not defending him felt incredibly wrong. They didn’t know Draco, not like she did. He wasn’t that boy from Hogwarts anymore._

_“I trust him.”_

_Harry glanced at her in surprise and she met his gaze without hesitation. Perhaps it was something in her voice, something about how she said those three words, for when she looked away from Harry she saw that Ron, Neville, and Hermione were all staring at her. While Ron and Neville seemed more confused than anything else, Hermione had a calculating gleam in her eyes, as though she was trying to figure out an equation quickly._

_Ginny normally liked seeing that look in Hermione’s eyes, but when directed at her, not so much. She tapped her foot anxiously before shrugging._

_“I do, I trust him. I’ve spent more time with him than any of you, and he’s not who he was…” she trailed off when Ron let out a strangled laugh._

_“Why are you hanging out with that git at all? And really, Gin, you hated him just as much as the rest of us. How can you trust—Oh, hell, it’s like you sent out a call to all Death Eaters,” Ron groaned._

_She frowned._

_“What—”_

_“I was never a Death Eater, Weasley, so I’d prefer you not associate that term with me, thank you very much.”_

_The familiar voice that joined the conversation made Ginny jump and she looked in the direction it came from. Right away, she spotted Zabini. He was leaning against the wall, staring down at the table with an amused smile._

_“Care for a shot at the bar, Weasley? Not you, you snot,” Zabini snapped, when Ron made a choked sound. “Come along, then, Ginevra.”_

_She hesitated, unsure of what to do. Neville made the choice for her by standing from his seat, giving her the opportunity to get out. Frowning suspiciously at Zabini, Ginny inched out of her tiny spot and exited the table. The weight of her friends’ stares on her back was heavy as she approached Zabini._

_“You’re actually going to listen to him?” she heard Ron yell, but she ignored him as she looked up at Draco’s friend._

_“What do you want?”_

_“To talk,” Zabini replied shortly._

_Then he walked towards the bar. Ginny glanced at her friends, who had varying expressions of surprise painted on their faces, before looking back to Zabini. The last time they had seen each other, Zabini had managed to insult her and make her question her relationship with Draco in less than ten minutes. She wasn’t sure she was going to react well if he did the same thing again._

_Curiosity got the better of her, however, and she followed him. When she reached his side at the bar, he leaned down to speak softly into her ear._

_“Trust Draco, do you?” Ginny’s face flushed at Zabini’s words. She opened her mouth to respond, but he continued speaking. “Ah, I suppose we’re all fools to be friends with him, aren’t we? You’re part of an exclusive club now, Weasley, I hope you’re ready.”_

_Then Zabini leaned back, his head tilted._

_“Though, I suppose, you’re more than friends with him, aren’t you?”_

_“Zabini—”_

_“You can be the leader of our club, then.”_

_“Look, I don’t appreciate—”_

_“I thought you’d be happy to be the leader of the club. I told you it’s exclusive; he doesn’t have many friends. And you trust him. I heard you just now defending him to your idiotic companions. Though I suppose Granger isn’t really too much of an idiot, she is rather brilliant, isn’t she? Don’t tell her I said that, of course, I couldn’t imagine the gossip that would follow me if that ever got out. Either way—Rosmerta, two shots of firewhisky, please, thank you, love—if you are a friend of Draco’s, or, I suppose, the term lover would be more appropriate, then you are a friend of mine. Not lover, though, Draco wouldn’t like that much.”_

_Two shots appeared before them, with a wink from Rosmerta._

_“To being friends.”_

_Zabini lifted his shot glass, meeting her eyes meaningfully. Ginny stared at him, wondering if this was some trick Zabini would laugh about later. But, surprisingly, she saw something rather close to honesty in his gaze as they stared at each other. Perhaps this was something akin to an apology for their last meetup. Hesitantly, Ginny lifted her shot glass. His lips curled into a smirk and he touched his glass to hers._

_In sync, they downed the liquor. The firewhisky burned its way to her stomach and she coughed, her eyes watery. When she focused again, she wasn’t at the Three Broomsticks, though she was still with Zabini. They were sitting around Draco’s table, sharing a bottle of wine as Draco anxiously went over a prepared speech that he had written for when he met with the Minister. It was odd to see someone nervous to meet with Kingsley, for he’d been a family friend of the Weasleys for ages now, but she had to remind herself that she had very different experiences with the Minister than Draco. Zabini, being more of a friend than Ginny could’ve ever assumed, didn’t mock Draco too horribly when he let out a frustrated yell after messing up the speech a third time._

_It was a week later that Ginny was woken from her afternoon nap, her mum hovering over her with a curious look on her face. When Ginny left her bedroom and went downstairs, she was more than a tad surprised to find Draco sitting at the kitchen table at the Burrow. Arthur sat across from him. Whatever Ginny had expected, it certainly wasn’t this._

_“Morning, Gin,” her dad greeted tiredly._

_Her body flushed as panic hit her. What was going on? Why was Draco at the Burrow, sitting with her parents? They hadn’t ever met, and if they had, it would’ve been years ago. Why would he be here? She tried to calm herself and think of something to say. Arthur, after giving her a minute to respond, spoke when he realized she was struck silent._

_“The Minister had me sit in on a meeting with…” Arthur paused to take in Draco before looking back to Ginny. “With Mr. Malfoy and… Harry.”_

_Her gaze moved from her dad’s to Draco’s. Neither man gave any indication of what was going on. Arthur wearily rubbed his nose before continuing. Molly came to stand by Ginny, passing her a mug of hot cocoa. She noted that a mug sat in front of Draco also. Hesitantly, she took a sip. Warmth spread through her, relaxing her tense shoulders, putting her body at odds with her anxious mind._

_Ginny took another sip._

_“This was after, of course, one of my coworkers asked me how I felt about you dating Lucius Malfoy’s son.”_

_She choked on her drink, barely stopping the liquid from spraying on her mum. Clamping a hand over her mouth, Ginny fought the urge to run from the room. This was bad. If she found out who had spilled the beans to her dad, she’d kill them. It was the flash of amusement that crossed Draco’s face that stilled her. If this was as bad a situation as she believed, he certainly wouldn’t be so entertained by her almost spitting out her drink._

_But she couldn’t focus on Draco’s glee, for the guilt that had been building over the past month from not telling her family about her relationship with Draco was now settled heavy in her stomach. This was it. Arthur and Molly knew about Draco and they knew she hadn’t been honest with them and they were going to shame her for not being truthful and… She sighed, feeling rather like she was eleven and not twenty-seven._

_“Dad,” Ginny started hesitantly, wiping at her mouth. “Mum.”_

_Molly made a sound in her throat._

_“It’s true. The Daily Prophet is right, for once. They’ve been writing all these horrible articles but I kept ignoring them and I… I should’ve told you earlier.”_

_Arthur’s eyebrows rose, and she felt Molly stiffen beside her. Ginny gnawed at her lip for a moment before shrugging._

_“We’ve been dating for only a bit now but, honestly, Draco isn’t—he’s not—” She hated how hot her face grew. “Look, Draco is… wonderful.”_

_It was difficult to look at Draco as she spoke; while they both knew they enjoyed each other’s company, they had never openly complimented each other. But this was different. She kept her gaze on her dad._

_“I know you hate his father, and there’s so much that had happened during the war, but—Dad, Mum, we’ve all changed so much. And he makes me happy and he treats me well and, Merlin, even Harry gets along with him. I mean, honestly, if Harry can get along with Draco, I think it’s reasonable to say he’s not the same person he was back at school. I trust him, and…”_

_Ginny stopped rambling when she saw a corner of Draco’s lip lift._

_“And… I don’t really know why he’s here right now. Did you threaten to hurt him if he didn’t come with you, Dad?”_

_For the first time since she entered the kitchen, her dad smiled._

_“I assume Draco had heard the gossip in the Ministry because, after the meeting, he asked to take us all to dinner. I couldn’t deny there was a reason to celebrate, and I knew I should get to know the young man who has been taking up all your time,” Arthur informed her._

_She stared at them blankly. Her mum patted her arm comfortingly._

_“You’re okay with this?”_

_Molly sniffed loudly._

_“Though you’ve told us nothing of Draco and Harry working together on the Azkaban project, Harry has. As Harry said, we need to help heal the wounds from the war. Your father and I have dealt with enough pain and horror in one lifetime. We’d like to make sure nothing like that happens again,” Molly said._

_Ginny blinked._

_“Okay…” She looked at Draco, trying to process how surreal this situation was, before she gasped. “Wait, did Kingsley give you the job?”_

_When his gaze met hers, she already knew the answer. Moving without thinking on it, Ginny raced across the kitchen. Draco stood, a small smirk dancing on his lips. Though he seemed more cautious, perhaps with the eyes of her parents on them, he still wrapped his arms around her when she hugged him. Ginny stepped back, her cheeks hurting from smiling so hard, and looked to her parents, who wore unreadable expressions._

_It was Ron who came to the Burrow first, two days after Draco did dinner with Ginny and her parents. He stormed up to her bedroom, knocked sharply on her door before letting himself in. She frowned at the sight of rage on his face before biting her tongue to not laugh out loud. Hugo was asleep in Ron’s arms. Thanking Hermione silently for making Ron bring the baby, she gave him ten minutes of trying to put as much anger in his words as possible without yelling, lest he disturb the newborn, before stopping him. Ron would take the longest to come around, she knew, but only because he was so protective over her._

_Over the next month, each brother spoke to her in some way about it. Percy was hardly concerned, though she could only assume it was because he wanted her to put a good word in with Draco since he was leading the Azkaban project. Bill brought it up when she went over to babysit Victoire and Dominique, amused but concerned before Fleur forced him away. George sent her a Howler that she had no choice but to open in Draco’s bedroom; George had clearly been struggling to not laugh as he called Draco a giant git and an ugly ferret but failed in the end. The sound of George’s laughter filling Draco’s bedroom made her day. Charlie wrote a quick letter, requiring she go off to St. Mungo’s to get checked out before threatening that he expected to meet Draco over Christmas._

_Then, suddenly, Ginny was at another Ministry event, though this time she knew far more people than before. Kingsley announced the new plan to reform Azkaban midway through the event, to the applause of the crowd, and introduced Harry and Draco officially. They each had to give a speech, and she listened despite having heard Draco’s at least ten times already._

_“This is wonderful, isn’t it, Ginny?”_

_Ginny turned, distracted, and smiled at Luna._

_“Who would’ve thought?” Luna continued happily._

_“Not me,” Ginny admitted._

_About six months ago, Luna had asked Ginny to befriend Draco in order to get him to work with Harry. They were all in such a different place now than they had been six months ago. Ginny focused on Draco again when Zabini sat on her other side._

_“I thought you’d rather sit with your date ?” she asked, surprised by his arrival._

_Blaise scowled at her but there was no heat behind it._

_“She’s nearly as boring as this speech,” he muttered, before reaching over and taking her glass of wine._

_Ginny reached to grab it back, but he moved with startling speed. Lifting it to his mouth, he took a large swig. She glared._

_“That was mine, you know. There’s a bar just that way if you’d like to get your own drink and, perhaps, get me a new one.”_

_“You’ve never heard of sharing?”_

_“There’s no point in sharing when you can get your own,” Ginny retorted._

_Blaise’s scowl lightened into a grin._

_“That takes all the fun out of it.”_

_“And it’s good to share with friends,” Luna added._

_It was obvious that Blaise hadn’t paid attention to anyone else at the table, for his eyes widened in surprise at Luna’s voice. He looked over Ginny’s shoulder at the other woman, his stare probing. The sound of the crowd applauding was barely heard as Ginny realized how potentially bad this situation could be. Despite having spent more time than she wanted with Blaise recently, she found it hard to call him a friend. He didn’t seem to mind intruding on her personal space, rambling unfiltered thoughts to her whenever he pleased, and hanging around when she wanted time alone with Draco. Whenever she thought about Zabini, she often compared him to Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans; sometimes her experiences with him were pleasant and sometimes they weren’t._

_“Loony Lo— Ow!”_

_Ginny aimed a kick at Blaise’s shin and pasted a pleasant smile on her face when she made contact._

_“What was that for?” he snapped._

_“Zabini, this is Luna, a good friend of mine.”_

_“Why am I not surprised by that?” he grumbled, though he continued to eye Luna with interest._

_“I’d met you before at Hogwarts,” Luna said, staring back at Zabini intently. “You had spiked your punch at Slughorn’s Christmas party and laughed rather rudely when Draco got in trouble for gate crashing.”_

_Blaise straightened in his seat before leaning across the table to get closer to Luna._

_“How the hell do you remember that?”_

_“You had spilled punch on my shoe when you were laughing. It took ages to come out.”_

_“I did?” He frowned. “I hadn’t realized.”_

_“Oh, it’s alright. I’ve bought new shoes since then.”_

_“I certainly hope so.”_

_Ginny looked between the two as they spoke, unsure of whether to be amused or concerned. A soft touch on her arm took her attention away from them. She looked up to see Draco beside her._

_“We’re expected to dance,” he said, inclining his head towards the dance floor._

_Ginny’s eyebrows rose in surprise._

_“You want to dance with me? Here?”_

_Though Ginny’s family and friends knew about her relationship with Draco, they hadn’t announced anything to the public. This would certainly send the Daily Prophet into a frenzy. As if reading her thoughts, Draco smirked and held out his hand. She took it, grinning, and stood. It was when Blaise moved into her seat that she paused._

_“What is it?” Draco asked, glancing behind her to look at the table._

_“Zabini and Luna. Is it a good idea to leave them together? If he upsets Luna—”_

_Draco tugged her closer, silencing her._

_“If there’s anything to learn about Blaise, it’s that he enjoys being entertained. I’m not sure there’s anyone more interesting than Lovegood here. She’ll be fine.” When Ginny didn’t move, he sighed. “Should I go find another dance partner then?”_

_Ginny shoved him with her free hand, much to his amusement. It was as they walked towards the dance floor that a loud clicking sound filled her ears. She couldn’t place it, not at first, but then she realized it was the sound of high heels on the floor._

_She opened her eyes._

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

It took more time to focus on her surroundings than when she had woken up to Charlie breaking the glass earlier. Lying in bed, her face pressed against the pillow, felt _wrong._ She should be at the Ministry event, Draco’s hand should be in her own, she should be heading to the dance floor. Licking her lips, Ginny finally rolled onto her back and sat up. Immediately, she saw someone sitting at her old desk. 

“You’re awake!” 

Pansy Parkinson turned around to face her, her red lips twisted into a smile. Ginny blinked twice to make sure she was really seeing Pansy in front of her. 

“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked in confusion. 

“Your husband wrote to me, asking for me to come babysit. As my father and mother prefer I not stop by for the holidays, or at any point of the year, really, I figured I had time.” 

Ginny continued staring at Pansy, trying to process the fact that Draco had written to Pansy, of all people, to come sit with her while she slept. There was something else missing, but Ginny’s brain felt scattered; she took a long moment to think over it before it clicked. 

“What about Harry?” 

“Oh, him?” Pansy stopped, her smirk widening, before she lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “He’s with that moron cousin of his. Dudley, isn’t it? He refused to invite me after I threatened to hex the stupid Muggle.” 

Pansy paused, looking over Ginny. 

Then she stood abruptly and sat on the bed beside her. It was obvious Pansy wanted to say something else, for her lips were pursed and her eyes roamed Ginny’s face. Ginny rubbed her forehead tiredly, still trying to get her thoughts together. If Parkinson wanted to say something, she’d have to do so without Ginny prompting her; Ginny was simply too exhausted to think straight. 

“Are you alright?” 

The question was unexpected, the words soft and honest. Ginny focused on Pansy again. 

“Yeah, I think so. Just… just trying to get this all over with.” 

Pansy’s eyebrows lifted. 

“Well, then,” Pansy said. “Are you happy with your life?” 

Ginny laughed at the surprising question. She took a second to think on what she had been remembering before nodding. 

“So far,” she replied softly. “So far, I like it a lot. It’s still early on though.” 

“Is it?” 

“I don’t even think I’ve met you yet.” 

Pansy let out a sharp, quick laugh. 

“Yes, well, don’t look forward to that too much. I can’t say I was very thoughtful when we first met.” 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Ginny said, not unkindly. 

Silence fell over the women, though it wasn’t strained. Looking out the window, Ginny noticed how cloudy it still was. She wondered if it snowed at all yet, if the children had been outside to play in it, if they even cared that she was gone. Shaking her head to clear away those dark thoughts, she looked back to Pansy, who was looking over her long, pointed nails with something close to pride. 

“What time is it? How long have you been here?” 

“Haven’t been here long at all, I’m afraid. Not yet noon. I was bored downstairs and thought I’d come check on you. That is why I’m here, after all, and I’d hate to disappoint Draco.” 

“Have you spoken to him?” 

“He had me write as soon as your brother left and I had a chance to look in on you. I wrote back and told him your outfit was awful—” Ginny looked down at herself, not realizing that while she had been sleeping she pushed the covers off, exposing her pajamas. “—and that you both have far too much money for you to ever wear that. But, otherwise, you seemed fine.” 

“I’m sure he enjoyed that.” 

“I think he would’ve sent me a Howler if he wasn’t worried it would wake you,” Pansy told her with a smirk. Her amusement faltered after a second. “You do look awful, though. Can I get you water? Or I’m sure you have food somewhere in this… house.” 

Pushing her hair back, and noting how tangled it was, Ginny sighed. 

“I’m tired. I think… I just need to go back to sleep.” 

Pansy nodded shortly and stood. The sound of her heels hitting the floor as she walked to the door was loud in the quiet of the bedroom. 

“I’ll be here if you need anything, Malfoy,” Pansy said, glancing at her once more before leaving. 

Ginny wilted like a flower as soon as the door clicked shut. It was nice of Draco to have Pansy come by, but, honestly, she’d rather be alone. Rubbing her eyes, Ginny wondered if she should get up to eat or drink like Pansy had mentioned. Sleep didn’t feel like it was going to come easy. All she could think about was how _happy_ she had been with Draco, how normal everything had felt, how easily it had all fallen into place…

Sleep claimed her before she could finish her thoughts. 

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

_The memories came faster than before. It was harder to focus on them now; she had to will her mind to slow down, to give her a moment to process what was happening._

_Zabini, she noticed right away, became more constant in her life: stopping by for dinner unannounced, debating with Ginny about Quidditch teams over tea, listening intently to Draco as he spoke about his ideas for Azkaban. Each time she saw him, he’d ask her some question about Luna._

_Then, suddenly, George and Angelina were planning their wedding. Hugo was becoming more active and beginning to smile at Ginny’s funny faces. Draco was starting to put up resistance whenever Ginny tried leaving his house to go to the Burrow. Ron was still trying to convince Ginny to break up with Draco for the sake of the family. No one else in her family seemed to care, though. Her mum and dad invited Draco over for dinner at least once a week and he always made sure to show._

_Christmas came and went. Draco spent the morning at the Burrow, an interesting meetup to say the least, but didn’t invite Ginny back to Malfoy Manor to see his mother. She hated to admit that she didn’t mind too horribly._

_And the Daily Prophet was out of control. Ginny fumed as she stared at the paper, tempted to shred it. It wasn’t fair that Draco didn’t care about the articles. Why was she the only one to care? It was time they addressed this. She rushed from the kitchen to the bedroom but paused when she saw the bedroom door was shut. With how early it was, Draco could still be asleep. He’d been staying up after she went to bed to work on his plans for Azkaban, knowing that she hated when the work he brought home took the focus off the two of them spending time together._

_The idea of disturbing him was the only thing that made her hesitate._

_“Must you stare at the door while you think?”_

_Ginny jumped, startled by his voice, and then pushed the door open. Draco was sitting up in bed, staring out the window at the snow falling. When she crossed the room to join him, he stared at her._

_“What is it, then?” he asked, cocking his head. “You’re angry.”_

_She sighed and crawled under the covers beside him._

_“I’m not angry, just frustrated. Actually, no, you’re right, I am angry.”_

_She tossed the paper at him. He caught it and looked over it, hardly interested. Pointing to the front page, Ginny waited for him to react. Draco continued gazing at it, unconcerned._

_“Are you reading the same thing as me?” Ginny peered at the paper, to make sure he was looking at the article, before glancing back up at him. “They’re saying we’ve married. It’s on the front page, Draco. They’re calling me_ Mrs. Malfoy.”

_“I see that. What’s the issue? Would you not take my last name if we married?”_

_Scowling, Ginny snatched the paper back from him, unsure if he was joking or not._

_“Other than your mum being unwilling to relinquish that title anytime soon, it’s not true. Why don’t you care?”_

_Draco let out a breath through his nose, annoyed as though she were a child pestering him about something he had already explained._

_“I don’t particularly mind the world knowing we’re together,” he told her. She stared in surprise. “But I understand it upsets you. I’ll figure something out.”_

_Perhaps it was because of that article that Narcissa soon after informed Draco that she wanted to meet Ginny officially. When Draco and Ginny went to Malfoy Manor, Ginny was surprised by how incredibly nervous she was. Not only because of where they were eating, a place where people were tortured and killed during the war, but because of who they were meeting. Narcissa Malfoy was of the highest society, Draco’s mother, the only parent who had any true sway over him, and… she had lied to Voldemort and changed the tide of the war._

_Throughout the meeting, Narcissa expressed her displeasure over their relationship without saying anything at all, which only increased Ginny’s anxiety. It wasn’t long before Ginny managed to break one of the china plates that had been used for biscuits. Narcissa pointedly informed her the plate had been in the family for five generations. Draco seemed torn between amusement and weariness. The meetup lasted exactly one hour and three minutes, and Ginny was rather happy to turn her back on the place._

_Blaise took joy in calling Ginny Mrs. Malfoy whenever they were all together, much to Ginny’s annoyance. After the third week of it, though, she got used to the name. She wouldn’t tell anyone that, of course, lest they get any ideas from it. Luna began spending more time with Draco, Ginny, and Blaise—somehow the group balanced each other out well. When George and Angelina sent out invitations for their wedding, Rolf had a trip planned on the date. Luna asked Blaise to join her as a friend._

_“I’m not really a fan of weddings,” Blaise informed them immediately._

_“Why’s that?” Ginny asked distractedly, looking up from the chess board as Draco contemplated his next move._

_“Each wedding I’ve attended has been followed shortly by a funeral.”_

_Ginny blinked in shock and Luna tilted her head. Draco glanced up, noted their confusion, and explained._

_“His mother married seven times. Or is it eight now?”_

_Blaise shrugged._

_“I’ve lost count,” he replied._

_Luna smiled and reached over, grabbing Blaise’s hand._

_“It’s rather like a celebration of life, then, isn’t it?” she said, smiling earnestly._

_Blaise looked from Luna to Ginny, an odd expression on his face. It had always been rumored that Blaise’s mother murdered all her husbands, but, honestly, Ginny wasn’t sure if Luna had ever listened to that sort of gossip. Ginny tried to figure out how to explain this to Blaise without offending him, but he turned his attention back to Luna, a curious look in his eyes._

_“I suppose it is,” he murmured._

_Quidditch practices began again; the cold air nipped at Ginny’s exposed face and hands and she constantly came home with red, angry skin from wind burn. George and Draco seem to get along the best out of all her brothers. Luna told Ginny that she spent many of her afternoons with Blaise, exploring Muggle London. He seemed to enjoy it, she said. Draco worked late with Harry on Wednesday and Thursday nights at the Ministry, going back and forth on Azkaban. Sometimes he came home angry and sometimes he came home content. At one of the rare get-togethers where George joined them, Blaise blurted out that Luna was pregnant._

_It was on a Sunday morning that Draco asked Ginny to stay._

_“Where are you off to?”_

_“I have to do breakfast with my parents,” she told him, voice muffled as she tugged on a jumper. “If I don’t go over to their house a few times a week, I think they’ll kick me out.”_

_He didn’t respond. Fixing her hair, she continued speaking._

_“You can always come, though.”_

_“Stay here.”_

_She laughed._

_“I have to go, I just said—”_

_“You misunderstand me. Stay here. You live here already.”_

_Ginny turned to face him._

_“But I_ don’t _live here, Draco.”_

_He sighed loudly._

_“Then let’s make it official. I’d rather you be here, you hardly enjoy sleeping at your parents’, we spend all our time together here,” Draco paused, a smirk twisting on his face. “It’s by far time you pay your share of the grocery bills. You essentially clean out my cabinets every week either way.”_

_A hesitant smile broke out across her face and she ran to him, pressing a kiss to his lips. This felt right._

_Every week: Quidditch and banter with Maggie; tea with Hermione; lunch with Blaise, Luna, and Draco; dinner with her family. Rolf and Luna decided Luna should stop travelling with him because of her pregnancy and the risks that came with it, so she spent far more time with Draco, Blaise, and Ginny than before. Rose loved helping take care of Hugo and made a show of it whenever Ginny babysat. Bill was thinking of getting a new house, but only Ginny knew; he wasn’t ready to tell their mum. Angelina didn’t cry at the wedding, but George did._

_Ginny recalled the first time she drank coffee since Hogwarts. She had been fighting a hangover after a night out with Ron and was groaning with her head against the kitchen table._

_“Have a sip of my coffee,” Draco offered, pushing the mug towards her without looking up from the paper._

_“I don’t like coffee,” she grumbled._

_He inhaled sharply, as though personally offended by the statement._

_“Why not?”_

_Ginny shrugged, lifting her head to meet his eyes._

_“I only ever drank it at Hogwarts when Hermione made me. She tended to consume a lot of it before tests. Maybe I have a bad association with it?”_

_A natural sneer colored Draco’s face._

_“Granger,” he spat._

_Ginny leveled him with a warning glare and he looked away. Once he collected himself, he turned his attention back to Ginny, the sneer gone. To show her appreciation for him not continuing to belittle Hermione, Ginny took his cup of coffee. His eyebrows rose and he put the paper down, intently watching her. As soon as she took a sip, she cringed. Draco began to laugh._

_“You’ll like it much more once your headache goes away.”_

_“It tastes as rotten as your headache potion!” Ginny cried out, pushing the mug away from her._

_Draco sniffed._

_“My headache potion is perfection. You simply have horrible taste.”_

_Charlie visited in May, to spend time with the family over the anniversary of Fred’s death and to celebrate Victoire’s birthday. It was never an easy time. Draco spent the day with his mother, though Ginny had a feeling he might’ve gone to Azkaban and not told her. Ginny spent the morning at Fred’s gravesite and the afternoon at the Burrow; the family’s tears dried as they watched Victoire and the other children spin around the backyard._

_When she went home that night, she found Draco staring into the flames. She had just set her bag down when he began to speak._

_“Do you know how long ago I stopped hating you?”_

_His voice sounded strangely empty. Her breath stopped at the sound of it; it had been so long since he’d spoken to her like that. Approaching cautiously, Ginny waited till she had a full view of his face to respond. Dark bags marred the skin under his eyes, his lips were set in a harsh frown, his hair tousled. She sat on the coffee table in front of him but shifted enough so that he didn’t break eye contact with the fire._

_Everyone Ginny knew dealt with the anniversary of the Final Battle differently. She liked to think she understood; if Victoire hadn’t been born on the same day Fred and so many others had died, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get out of bed at all when May 2nd rolled around._

_Licking her lips, Ginny finally answered._

_“I’m hoping about a year ago.”_

_She tried to inject something close to teasing in her words but it fell flat. He didn’t react. It was as though she had said nothing at all. Then, after a tense moment, he spoke._

_“It was my last year at Hogwarts. Carrow brought you into my morning class, ready to punish you for trying to vandalize the Entrance Hall.”_

_Draco ran a shaky hand through his hair, his gaze still diverted from hers._

_Ginny swallowed hard. Her sixth year at Hogwarts, the year of the Final Battle, was a time she tried not to think about. There had been so many detentions, so many times that the Carrows had found her and used her to make an example of, so many moments when fear and adrenaline made her mind go blank. Sometimes she thought her brain purposely blocked out certain memories from that year, to help her heal._

_Her heart raced as she tried to think on what Draco said. There had been several times that Ginny had been caught attempting to vandalize the school, to let people know that Snape and the Carrows hadn’t won. The feeling of Amycus Carrows’s nails against her scalp as he dragged her into a classroom came forward easily. He had always liked to punish the students in front of an audience. And… and, suddenly, she could recall getting hauled from Herbology by Carrow and thrown onto the floor of his classroom. She inhaled sharply when the image of her fellow students’ eyes flashed before her: wide, terrified, hopeless._

_“But it wasn’t him who planned on punishing you that time. He made you pick one of us,” Draco whispered, as though the words were painful to speak._

_How had she forgotten?_

_Carrow’s breath in her ear, hot and heavy, as he ordered her to pick her torturer. She could remember tears streaming down Neville’s face, Seamus frozen with rage, Lavender Brown’s shaky hands covering her mouth. There was no way she could have made her friends do it. So… she had looked to the Slytherin side of the room, the side whose parents had started the war, the side who hoped Voldemort would win… and she saw Draco. He was the only Slytherin she knew who had shown something other than indifference throughout the year; he had often looked… forlorn._

_“I picked you,” Ginny breathed._

_Draco looked at her then._

_She suddenly felt nauseated and she rushed to stand, to get away, to distance herself, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. Their gazes locked and Ginny couldn’t look away. His eyes were haunted and a wave of guilt washed over her. How had she forgotten that she had made him do that? And why had he not brought it up until now?_

_“I had to take you to the hospital wing after; Carrow made me, you were… barely conscious. Madam Pomfrey was busy all the time that year and I was waiting with you because—because you were bleeding and I had done that to you and I had hated you then, you and your perfect life, where the easiest option for you was to follow Potter and my only choice was to follow him,” Draco spat the words with venom but Ginny understood it wasn’t directed at her._

_Tom Riddle had ruined Draco’s life just as he had ruined Ginny’s._

_“And…” He inhaled slowly, his anger evaporating as quickly as it had arrived. “And you woke up. I didn’t think you realized who I was, you were in so much pain and had been rambling about things I couldn’t understand. But then you looked at me and said that you had picked me because… you knew I was strong enough to perform the curse on you. That you didn’t hate me. That you understood.”_

_Her heart pounded against her ribcage. She didn’t remember speaking to Draco at all, hardly remembered anything between the curse being administered on her and waking up to Madam Pomfrey forcing a potion down her throat._

_“I understood what?”_

_“That I did it all for my family.”_

_Draco’s gaze was soft as his fingers traced her hand._

_“You were the first person to say that to me,” he muttered. “I was furious that anyone knew the truth, I knew Potter must’ve told you, I couldn’t believe anyone knew I was so_ weak, _but you… you hadn’t viewed me that way.”_

_“I don’t remember any of that,” Ginny admitted, biting her lip. “I’m sorry.”_

_He shook his head._

_“Don’t be sorry. It’s the only thing that… helped me that year. And you telling me that you didn’t hate me made me… not hate you.”_

_Ginny kissed him long and slow that night, savoring the taste of his lips, the salt of his skin, the feel of his hands trailing over her body. When he whispered that he loved her, his eyes finding her own in the darkness of the bedroom, terrified and vulnerable, she knew she loved him too._

_Easily, Ginny remembered how Hugo would immediately stop crying whenever Draco held him, much to Ron’s chagrin and Draco’s amusement. When Hermione decided to accompany Kingsley on a weekend trip to France to speak to several foreign Ministers, it wasn’t the Burrow Ron Flooed to for help when Hugo wouldn’t stop crying. His troubled face appeared in the fireplace of Draco and Ginny’s house, angry and tired. When Draco agreed to go to Ron’s to help, with Ginny there as a buffer, the two men were somewhat polite. Hugo stopped crying as soon as he was placed in Draco’s arms._

_Ginny was surprised when she realized how excited she was for Draco to soothe their own child someday._

_The memories of fights she had with Draco came suddenly, and it felt like the reasons for the arguments were endless. Whenever he snapped at Hermione, something reminiscent to his Hogwarts years lingering in his words. If Ginny made a comment under her breath about his father, because Draco didn’t seem to understand how much she truly despised the man. After each incident where he was unwilling to negotiate with her about spending less money on new things, not understanding she grew up poor and didn’t care to spend money recklessly. When she had trouble getting along with his mother, despite the fact that Narcissa purposely made it difficult. The fights always ended with Ginny screaming and Draco staring off, his lips pressed together, frozen._

_He had changed so much since Hogwarts; back then, Draco enjoyed a fight. Now, he’d say one cutting thing and detach himself from the argument. But it was easy for them to get over their frustration with each other, for they took it out in other ways._

_All they needed was one touch: his hand pressing into the small of her back, her fingertips brushing the curve of his jaw, his arm wrapping around her to bring her closer. Sometimes she wondered how she survived for so long without Draco’s caress. Because it sent her thoughts spiraling, her blood racing, her willpower running._

_She had flashes of Draco catching her wrist, stealing her lips in a kiss before she had a moment to think. She recalled her hands fumbling to undo his belt buckle as he lifted her off her feet and onto the bed. She remembered the desperation that filled her, the want and the need, as he kissed a path down her stomach, his fingers tugging at her knickers as she gasped and choked back words that would beg him to move faster, faster,_ faster. 

_There was a fire between them that she had never felt with anyone before. Heat pooled in her core as she wrapped her legs around his middle, as the buttons flew off his shirt when she got frustrated and ripped it open, as his mouth found her nipples through her Harpies jersey. How many times had they been in the middle of a fight when she caught his eyes and saw them darken in a way that made her forget what was wrong? How many times had she let him slide his hands up her legs as he tugged her closer, clearly ignoring what she was complaining about until all her words turned into moans? How many times had he tried to walk away from a fight and she refused, she wouldn’t let him not engage her— how many times had she pushed him into his seat and straddled him and made him pay attention?_

_No longer was Ginny remembering the feel of Draco’s lips on her skin. No, now Ginny recalled meeting Pansy for the first time after she started dating Draco. It had been a rather rude exchange, when Pansy arrived at the house without any invitation. Ginny had been lounging on the couch, writing out a list for groceries while Draco showered, when the woman opened the front door without knocking and let herself in._

_“Draco Malfoy! Where are you? I refuse to be replaced by that bloody harpy—”_

_Parkinson stopped abruptly when Ginny sat up on the couch and their eyes met. She sneered rudely._

_“Ah, of course, the harpy,” she spat._

_“What a pleasant surprise,” Draco called as he entered the room, drying his hair with a towel._

_Ginny wasn’t shocked that one more person in Draco’s life despised her. But after Ginny left to get the groceries, taking far longer than she normally would so Draco would have time with Parkinson, she came back to find Draco alone, content and apologetic._

_“She was one of my best friends but she comes and goes now. Once she spends more time with you, she’ll be less of a…”_

_“A raging tosser?”_

_He smirked._

_“Indeed.”_

_The memories were blurring, going faster now, as if Ginny were on a broom and racing through the days, desperate to make it to the end. It became hard to differentiate the day, much less month, when something was occurring. She almost felt like it was a battle of wills—her desire to take in every memory slowly versus her mind’s push to heal completely._

_One second she was showing Draco how to make her mum’s legendary cake, laughing out loud when Draco managed to get icing on his forehead. The next, she was beside Blaise, smiling as he pressed his hand against Luna’s large belly, his eyes widening comically when the babies moved beneath his touch. Abruptly Draco was sitting on the beach beside her, keeping a watchful eye on Victoire and Dominique as they chased the retreating sea. Next, Maggie was giggling as they flew lazy laps around the Quidditch pitch, getting time in to talk since practice was finally over. Then, she was no longer flying, instead watching as George showed Draco some of his newest inventions at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes._

_In the blink of an eye, Ginny was in an empty room with Draco, his hand slowly making its way up her thigh, pushing her dress up higher and higher, drunk from the thrill of potentially being caught by other guests at the Ministry ball—then she wasn’t anymore. No, now she was waiting for Draco to finish meeting with Harry, only half listening to Blaise and Luna talk in front of the fire._

_“Pies? You believe Fudge baked the goblins in pies?”_

_“There is no reason to believe he didn’t.”_

_“There’s no reason to believe he did!” Blaise’s snickers rang loud. “Lovegood, you are an absolute delight. A bit odd, yes, but a delight.”_

_“Thank you, Blaise,” Luna replied, smiling so brightly that Ginny found herself grinning too._

_Ginny was telling Draco a joke, forcing a reluctant smile from him; then she was having tea with Fleur, discussing different options if Bill and the family were really to leave Shell Cottage; then she was laying on the couch at the Burrow as Celestina Warbeck played on the wireless, listening to Molly hum along with the music. She was sweating despite the autumn air as she flew high in the sky during a game, she was visiting Percy at the Ministry, she was… watching George dance around the kitchen of the Burrow as Ron howled with laughter._

_“This isn’t funny,” Ginny growled, eyes narrowed._

_“But, Mrs. Malfoy, I thought you’d enjoy us finally addressing you by your proper title—”_

_“Stop making fun of your sister, George,” Molly ordered, though the corner of her lips twitched upwards._

_“The Daily Prophet is absolute rubbish,” Hermione remarked._

_“Mrs. Malfoy,” George called, holding out his hand to Ginny. “I can help you learn all the proper dances and etiquette of high society.”_

_Despite trying to stay annoyed, at least for Draco’s sake, amusement began to fill Ginny at the sight of George bowing low to the ground. Ginny glanced at Draco, who was silently watching the exchange as he chewed his food._

_“You’re not too high and mighty for us Weasleys now, are you, Gin?”_

_“George,” Arthur warned tiredly from the head of the table._

_Ginny grinned and accepted George’s hand, allowing him to tug her out of her seat. He spun her around the kitchen several times and she mimicked his ridiculous dance moves, as Molly clapped and Ron continued laughing. Rose wobbled over to them, giggling when George picked her up and tossed her into the air._

_She remembered waking up in the middle of the night, and the spot beside her in bed was empty. When she got up to explore, she found Draco in the kitchen, though it was initially hard to notice him. Parchment was everywhere: completely covering the surface of the table, floating up beside him so he could find what he wanted simply by turning his head, on his lap, spilling from the bag at his feet. Ginny stared in surprise._

_“Hey,” she called softly._

_Ginny had been afraid to startle him and had managed just that. He jolted in his seat and whipped around to stare at her. His eyes were bloodshot._

_“Draco,” she began, walking closer to him. “It’s past three. You should come back to bed.”_

_His hand twitched on the table._

_“I can’t.”_

_“If you rest—”_

_“I_ can’t _rest. I can’t. Go back to bed.”_

_He said nothing else, instead turning around in his seat to continue whatever he had been doing before. Gnawing on her lip, Ginny lingered awkwardly. She wasn’t surprised by his reaction; he had been working himself nonstop the last few weeks, trying to make sure everything was ready to present to the Ministry. But he_ needed _to go to sleep or he’d run himself ragged._

_  
_

_“Look, how about we go to sleep and we’ll wake up early—”_

_“Will you listen to me? I cannot go to sleep. This needs to be perfect. If I fail at this, if this doesn’t work, it will be me who is blamed for it. Not Potter, not the Ministry,_ me. _Sleep is a luxury I can’t afford right now. I can’t fail, not at this, this is my only chance—”_

_The words tumbled out of his mouth with no filter, as if the thought of failing had been repeating in his head nonstop for months. Ginny stared, concern and surprise fighting for dominance within her. She had never seen him like this before._

_“This needs to be done now. I don’t have time to sleep.”_

_“Hey, okay, I get it,” she interrupted hurriedly, rushing forward._

_The parchment parted ways to allow her entry to him, and she went to brush her fingers over his cheek but hesitated. He looked tense and aggravated and she wasn’t sure how he’d respond to her touch. Instead, she took a seat in the empty chair beside him. Looking over all the parchment on the table, floor plans and suggestions from multiple experts on how to change the security and scrappy pieces of parchment from Harry with dates and times that Draco hadn’t yet written down himself, it wasn’t hard to see why Draco was so stressed._

_“Let me help you. How can I help?”_

_He let out a long breath through his nose._

_“You can help by going back to sleep and leaving me be.”_

_Ginny flinched. It wasn’t because his tongue had been sharp as he spat the words at her, no. It was because he hadn’t looked at her when he said it, as if she were a bother to him. It reminded her oddly of when she dated Harry; it always bothered her when he’d file reports and pay no mind to her presence, despite the little time they had together._

_She clenched her fists as she stared at him._

_“We’re in this together, Draco,” she told him determinedly. “I can’t do this work for you and I know that. But don’t push me away. I can’t—I can’t have this project swallowing you up. I know it’s important to you and I want you to succeed, but I need to be able to be a part of this with you.”_

_His quill stopped, her pleading tone penetrating his mad rush of thoughts. Draco looked over at her, his eyes rimmed red, the skin baggy and dark underneath, his mouth pulled tight._

_Then he nodded, which was perhaps the most permission she’d get. She released her breath, which she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she waited for his response._

_“I’ll brew some coffee.”_

_“We ran out earlier this evening,” he informed her tersely._

_“Then I’ll go to the market.”_

_Draco frowned._

_“It’s three in the morning—”_

_“Draco,” Ginny warned, sounding rather similar to her mum. “I will find you some coffee and make you some… some breakfast, I guess, and then I’m going to stay up with you and do whatever you need me to do. We’re in this together, okay?”_

_Something flickered in his eyes and he nodded once more. Ginny smiled and stood up, ready to find her shoes and something to throw over her pajamas. Draco’s voice stopped her when she was about to exit the kitchen._

_“Thank you, Ginny.”_

_Ginny looked over her shoulder at him but he was already back to writing._

_One moment, she was in the nursery at Luna’s house, helping her sort through all the clothes she had received for the twins. The next, she was looking over the new Quidditch uniform the Harpies were going to get for the new season. Maggie thought they looked hideous, but Ginny sort of liked them. Then she was snacking on a sandwich and watching Draco sort through some of the Azkaban floor plans in the drawing room. Ginny spoke without thinking._

_“I think we need a bigger house.”_

_“I can’t understand you when your mouth is full, Weasley,” Draco mumbled._

_“A bigger house. We should look into one. A study for you, an actual room to dine in, extra bedrooms for people to spend the night, namely Blaise… a large backyard for us to play Quidditch in.”_

_Draco stopped what he was doing to stare at her. She grinned cheekily._

_“Though I’m afraid you’d be admitting defeat to me more often than not if we played against each other,” she teased._

_“You would want to buy a house with me?” he asked._

_She blinked in surprise._

_“Well, this isn’t big enough for the both of us,” Ginny said slowly. “Not with your amount of work, not with all our friends coming over, not if we ever expect—”_

_The words almost slipped out and she stopped. Immediately, her face flushed. She could feel the heat working down her neck and Draco’s eyes followed it. Licking her lips, Ginny shrugged._

_“Ever expect what?” he murmured, reaching out and trailing his fingers over her collarbone._

_“Nothing, nothing. I just meant…” She stopped again, unsure of what to say._

_He didn’t need her to continue, instead supplying the words for her._

_“Marriage? Children? A family?”_

_She found herself almost defensive at his suggestions, though Ginny knew Draco wasn’t mocking her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shook her head. It was a topic they had barely discussed before and Ginny put most of the blame for that on herself. When she had been with Harry, marriage and children were things she thought of as some possibility years away. But, with Draco, she couldn’t imagine another path. Ginny wanted to marry the man before her, she wanted the commitment, she wanted to see Draco holding a child of their own just as he held Hugo—the realization, which had come to her months ago, had been alarming._

_Because she wasn’t sure if Draco would want that also. It was one thing to date a former enemy, but to marry into their family, to have children with them…_

_“Ginny?”_

_She sighed, his call to her pulling her from her insecurities. Draco stared at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. Even if she hadn’t told him before about her thoughts on their future, now that he had addressed it Ginny knew she couldn’t lie. She had never felt the need to lie to Draco throughout their relationship, and she refused to start now; if anything, throughout all their years knowing each other, they had always been brutally honest with each other._

_“At some point, yeah, I want that with you,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat. “Is that insane?”_

_His eyes traced her face for a long moment before he shook his head._

_“Not at all.”_

_It was two weeks later that Draco pulled out a ring as they laid in bed together, watching the snow fall outside. He admitted to carrying it around for months._

_“What do you say? Will you officially become a Malfoy?”_

_She nodded, laughing._

_When Draco and Ginny went to Malfoy Manor to tell Narcissa about their engagement, Ginny had watched in half wonder as the woman’s face seemed to freeze over. She had remained rigid but polite throughout the exchange, though there was something hard in her gaze every time her eyes met Ginny’s. It warned the younger witch that not all was well. Leaving Malfoy Manor, Draco seemed to have taken his mother’s frostiness with him; it melted throughout the night, but initially Ginny wondered how she was ever going to fit into Draco’s old life._

_Where Narcissa was cold with disapproval, however, Arthur and Molly were hot with rage. Her mum hadn’t bothered to hold back, even with Draco there—which, Ginny admitted, was probably a good sign. If Molly ever waited for someone to leave the room before criticizing them, there was no hope._

_They hadn’t been dating long enough, hardly a year, did they even really know each other, didn’t this seem like they were rushing everything a bit? People made rash decisions when in love, and if they could simply wait a few more years, to really learn about each other more, this engagement would make much more sense._

_Ginny left the Burrow in a rage. After Apparating home, she stomped to the kitchen and yanked open the liquor cabinet. Draco kept his finest scotch collection in there, knowing that Ginny would never touch the liquor, but she needed it tonight. When she went to pour herself a drink, her hands were shaking so badly she put the bottle down. Clasping her hands to her chest, her new engagement ring still unfamiliar on her finger, she turned to find Draco leaning in the doorway, watching her._

_“Do you think we’re rushing this?” she choked out._

_Draco approached her, wordlessly pulling her into his arms. Ginny leaned her head against his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart._

_“It’s simply an engagement,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head. “They fear we’re going to rush off and get married right away.”_

_“That’s sort of the point though, isn’t it? We want to get married, whether tomorrow or in six months or three years. That’s what scares them, isn’t it?”_

_He leaned back so that their gazes could meet._

_“Tell me the day, the hour, you’d like to get married—tomorrow or in six months or three years—and I will be ready. Okay?”_

_In the blink of an eye, Ginny and Draco were no longer in their kitchen. Instead, they were exploring a potential house to move into. Draco didn’t like it, Ginny could tell by the tug of his lips, and she held back a sigh. Merlin, this man was picky. But… no, she was no longer with Draco. Now, she was in Hogsmeade, meeting with Neville for a butterbeer while the students enjoyed their freedom from the castle._

_Luna, who was due any day now, asked Ginny to stay at her house with her, since Rolf was still exploring the jungles of Brazil. Since Luna didn’t seem to mind that Rolf wasn’t there with her, Ginny tried not to think on it too much, though she knew if Draco did the same to her he’d be on the receiving end of a hex. Blaise came over on a Monday night with sweets, and Ginny had just bitten into a treacle tart when Luna let out a loud, startled gasp. The babies were coming._

_They were no longer rushing to St. Mungo’s. Instead, she was with Draco, bundled up and shopping for Christmas. Ginny finished telling Draco about Blaise’s reaction when Luna went into labor, and she was struck silent by the way Draco’s face brightened as he laughed. It hadn’t been too long ago that Draco would barely share a smile with her and now she was gifted with the experience of watching his eyes light up, his lips quirk, his face flush pleasantly._

_Her mind was made up in that moment._

_“Draco,” she breathed._

_His eyebrows rose as the smirk lingered on his face._

_“Yes?”_

_“Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”_

_He looked from her one eye to the other, clearly confused at the change of topic._

_“Right now?”_

_“Well, not right now, git,” Ginny responded, playfully shoving at his chest. “But… Charlie is coming in for the holidays and the whole family will be together for the first time in months and I know Blaise doesn’t like being with his mum for Christmas and Rolf is home with Luna, so she won’t be overwhelmed with the babies and—I don’t need a huge wedding. We could do it in the backyard of the Burrow or in this spot, tomorrow, or… I don’t care. But I want to do it. You said I just needed to tell you the day, right?”_

_“I did.”_

_Draco pressed his lips together; she knew he was trying not to laugh._

_“I’m not joking, Draco!”_

_“Of course not,” he replied. “I’ve been ready to marry you.”_

_They invited their immediate family and their closest friends to their house for a sudden get-together a week before Christmas, one week after Ginny decided she wanted to marry Draco straight away. In the backyard of their house—their too small house that they were going to move out of once Draco stopped being so picky—they exchanged their vows, much to the surprise of their guests._

_Each Weasley brother threatened Draco separately throughout the night; Ginny was torn between laughing and feeling embarrassed when Draco recounted what each brother said they’d do to him if he ever broke her heart._

_They bought a house, one that was far too grand for Ginny but she couldn’t help agreeing to. Draco wouldn’t let her say no once he saw her reaction the first time they explored it. A library, a large dining room, a study for Draco, a huge yard for Quidditch, multiple bedrooms—it was perfect._

_Ginny remembered Luna smiling tiredly as she nursed one of the boys and Rolf rocked the other to sleep; she remembered staring at her wedding ring in awe whenever she was by herself; she remembered her mum kissing her forehead weeks after the wedding and saying she was glad Draco was a part of the family; she remembered Draco asking her to go to Azkaban, to see Lucius, and immediately denying him that._

_She remembered Blaise coming over for dinner and looking around in confusion._

_“Where’s Luna?” Blaise asked, falling into the chair by the chessboard gracefully._

_Ginny stared at him for a long moment, unsure if he was serious or not. When he raised his eyebrows, waving his hand impatiently at her to answer, Ginny shook her head. Men were idiots sometimes._

_“She has two newborns, Blaise. I doubt Luna will be able to do dinner with us for a while.”_

_Blaise frowned._

_“Everyone is getting married and having spawns now. Should I be following this trend?”_

_Snorting, Ginny took the seat across from him. She put her chin in her hand and appraised Blaise._

_“And what type of person would you marry?” she asked, true curiosity nipping at her._

_“Someone quite the opposite of my mother.”_

_He answered quickly, easily, and Ginny blinked in surprise. Blaise rarely opened up about his mother to her. The warmth of affection ran through Ginny; it was truly a show of how much Ginny and Blaise’s friendship had developed. Not too long ago, she could barely stand talking to the man._

_“And what’s she like?”_

_Blaise lowered his eyes, taking a minute to look at the chess pieces on the board. Ginny was sure he wouldn’t answer, and she honestly wouldn’t be disappointed if he didn’t. They rarely spoke so seriously—_

_“My father was my mother’s first husband,” he told her. “When he died, she became rather lost. Only when a handsome, rich suitor came her way did my mother seem able to ground herself. She has a way of… molding herself to be whoever those around her want her to be, without them even realizing. Sometimes I think I’m the only person who remembers the real her. If what I remember was even the real her.”_

_His frown deepened, the wrinkles on his forehead severe as his eyebrows furrowed. Ginny stared at him, wondering what she could possibly say. But then Blaise looked up from the board and the harsh look on his face was gone; back was the Blaise she was used to, an easy smile playing across his face as he shrugged._

_“I, personally, much preferred her when she was lost and herself.”_

_The thought entered Ginny’s mind unexpectedly as Blaise changed the conversation: Luna was the only person Ginny had ever met who had never changed herself because of someone else’s influence. She pushed the thought away._

_No longer was she with Blaise; no, now she was laying on the couch after an obnoxiously long practice. The coaches had dubbed it a ‘holiday’ affair, to make sure no one got too comfortable after all the food, and it had been absolutely brutal._

_She barely lifted her head when Draco arrived home, shrugging off his cloak when he found her in the library. His eyebrows rose high when he saw her. As much as she wanted to get up and give him a kiss, for she felt like they hadn’t seen each other at all the past few days, her body refused to move. It ached in the way it only did after a long practice._

_Ginny pointed at Witherwings, who was lounging on her stomach._

_“He weighs too much for me to move. Bloody fat cat.”_

_“Have you forgotten your parents are coming over for dinner tonight?”_

_She groaned loudly._

_“I completely forgot! The house is a mess,” Ginny whined. “This place is too large for one person to clean.”_

_Pausing, she glared at Draco._

_“Perhaps if you’d help a bit,” she said, earning a smirk from him._

_“Or you could admit defeat and get a house-elf to keep up with the place.”_

_“Why do you always want to spend money on things we don’t need?” Ginny asked, exasperated._

_Draco stared pointedly at her._

_“You had a four-hour practice today, we haven’t even begun to get the house ready for your parents, you just now admitted this house is too large for one person to clean—”_

_“Two people could do it!” she cut in._

_Draco ignored her._

_“—but now you want to make it seem as though getting a house-elf would be the most ridiculous thing in the world. We could even pay the thing; that would make Granger happy. And we’d have more time in bed. If we had a house-elf—”_

_Ginny was very firm when she said no, and Draco dropped the subject._

_Three weeks later, Ginny realized she had missed her period. It took one visit to a Healer to have all the confirmation she needed; she was pregnant. Draco had been silent for twenty minutes when she told him. Then, his eyes bright, he smiled and kissed her and asked her how she felt about it._

_Was it possible to feel excitement and fear and confusion and worry and love and uncertainty all at the same time? They had just moved into this large new house and were still getting the hang of things. She’d have to take the season off from Quidditch. Her income was going to get lost and Draco was still in the process of preparing for everything with Azkaban and, Merlin, what was her family going to say? Draco’s mother still hated her. And yet… the sight of Draco’s smile made her heart soar._

_“I hope the baby has my hair,” she told him and Draco let out a choked laugh before kissing her again._

_“The Malfoy heir isn’t going to have the Weasleys’ notorious red locks,” he said, tugging at her hair gently._

_It seemed like the months flew by as the baby grew inside of her. Her mum stopped by the house often to feed her and help clean up. Hermione gave her all the baby books she had purchased during her own pregnancies. Victoire and Dominique argued every time they saw Ginny over whether the baby was going to be a boy or a girl. Her dad would stop by on his lunch breaks and lay with her on the couch._

_Maggie laughed every time Ginny showed up for the Harpies’ practices, though few and far between during the winter months. Her belly was growing but she still did the stretches, still made her presence known despite having to sit in the stands with the coaches now. Neville wrote her letters about how much a menace the child of a Malfoy and Weasley would be to teach. Ginny found comfort in going to Luna’s and helping her with the twins, Lorcan and Lysander. If Luna could do this with two babies, she could handle one. Right?_

_Whenever Ginny found herself alone, she wondered if she was ready for this. To be a mother, to have to share Draco, to expand the Malfoy lineage. She’d press her hand against her stomach, and sometimes she’d feel the baby push back. Because, even for all her uncertainty, she felt this strong connection between the child growing within her and herself, a connection no one else would have with this baby._

_Draco’s emotions changed with each memory. He was worried that she’d hurt herself as she moved things around in the bedroom. He was in awe as he pressed his ear to her stomach; she wondered what he heard that made his lips twitch into that rare, beautiful smile. He was anxious as he tried to finish the work at the Ministry so that he’d have more time at home with her. He was laughing as she paraded around in a horrid pregnancy dress that her mum had given her. He was kissing her, everywhere, whenever they were alone, expressing his gratitude._

_And Ginny relented; they got a house-elf named Yolly who took over the cleaning and who cooked whenever Ginny was too tired. Hermione had been sure to look over Yolly’s contract three times before grudgingly accepting Draco and Ginny’s new hire. It was only a week in of the house-elf working for the Malfoy family that Ginny went to Yolly for advice on how to decorate the nursery and the house-elf burst into tears of happiness._

_When her fingers became so swollen that she couldn’t get her wedding ring off, Draco sat with her as she cried. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Maybe because they had been barely married a month before she became pregnant or because this baby would change everything and that frightened her or because her hormones had made it hard for her to keep her head straight. When Ginny finished sobbing, her face splotchy and nose runny, Draco helped her get her wedding ring off her finger and held her till she fell asleep._

_The next morning, he came home from work with a lovely silver chain. He put the chain through the ringhole and then fastened it around her neck. Ginny cried even more, this time because she couldn’t get over how much she loved a man she once hated._

_It was on a Tuesday that her water broke. Draco was at the Ministry, but Hermione was at the house with her, having wanted to cook lunch, and managed to write to Draco and get Ginny over to St. Mungo’s in record time. It was a blur of pain and worry and excitement before a Healer put the tiny, screaming baby in Ginny’s arms as Draco stood anxiously overhead, his lips pressed tight and his hands shaking and his hair as messy as Harry’s on a bad day._

_Orion was loud and angry to have been brought into the real world. His screams were so deafening, Molly and Arthur compared him to when Ron was born, earning a frown from Draco. But when everyone finally left and Orion was cradled against Ginny’s breast, with Draco tiredly watching from the chair beside the bed, the baby finally quieted._

_“I’m not sure I’ve ever known a Malfoy child to be born bald,” Draco whispered._

_“Or a Weasley child,” Ginny added, staring down in wonder at Orion. “Draco…”_

_She looked up at him, her eyes watery._

_“We have a baby. I mean, this is us. He is us. Orion is… he can be whatever he wants and we get to help raise him, this little thing that has absolutely no idea of the world and—and he won’t have to live through a war like we did or—or have the same prejudices passed down from our parents like we did and… I mean, how are we not going to ruin him?”_

_Draco’s eyes were trained on Orion as she spoke. His lips quirked up once she finished._

_“If we do everything opposite of what my father did, I think he’ll be just fine.”_

_Ginny laughed a little too loudly and Orion’s eyes opened, showing his parents a flash of blue. They both held their breath until he fell asleep again._

_“I like how you turned out, though,” Ginny said affectionately. “Even if you were a horrible prat all through Hogwarts.”_

_Draco cocked his head._

_“Then hopefully Orion will be able to avoid that horrible phase I went through.”_

_Family visited constantly the first couple weeks, bringing food and gifts and advice. Orion cried, a lot, and Ginny counted down the days till Draco went back to work with fear. Because, Merlin, this was not easy. It was wonderful and magical to have Orion in her life but it was exhausting and tested her every day. She was still_ learning _him: what each of his cries meant and how long he had to be asleep in her arms before she could put him in the bassinet without him waking up and so much more._

_But at least she and Draco were learning together._

_Blaise, who seemed curious but wary of Orion, came over for only short bursts of time. The first visit, he brought a camera which he gifted to Ginny, to help document Orion’s childhood. But he left abruptly when the baby began to scream. Luna came over whenever she was able to, though that wasn’t as much as Ginny would’ve liked. But, when Draco officially went back to work, her mum came over often to help. Draco was beginning to take extended trips to meet with different investors and security advisers throughout Europe, leaving Ginny home alone with Orion more often. When he came back, though, he was_ here, _asking her questions and taking care of Orion and focused on her._

_Red curls began to cover Orion’s head. Whenever she’d point it out proudly, Draco would pretend to be mad, though a smile lingered on his lips at the sight of it._

_“I’ll let you have this one, Gin, but the next will be blond like me.”_

_She stared in surprise, warmth spreading through her when she realized Draco had said it without thinking. He continued rocking Orion, unable to see the wonder on Ginny’s face._

_But the panic and exhaustion had hit her fully on an afternoon when Orion wouldn’t stop crying. Ginny had been sick for two days already and torn between comforting Orion and trying to keep him from catching whatever she was ill with. Draco was away on business, meeting with potential investors in Rome. Angelina and George were with Angelina’s family for the weekend. Molly and Arthur were visiting Charlie in Romania. Luna was busy with the twins, Blaise was forced into the company of his mother for a few days in Greece, Percy was doing overtime at the Ministry, Fleur was left at Shell Cottage with her own children while Bill visited the pyramids in Egypt and… and… there was no one left to help Ginny, when normally there was someone._

_And Orion wouldn’t stop crying. And her head felt heavy and her nose stuffy and no amount of Pepper Up potions were helping, especially since the Healer warned against taking too many potions while breastfeeding. She hadn’t showered in three days and she hadn’t slept longer than that._

_Ginny was going to lose her mind. Honestly, she feared more falling asleep accidentally, too exhausted to keep her eyes open, and neglecting the baby._

_So she remained curled in a large chair by the roaring fire, Orion tucked in her arms, the ringing of his piercing cries echoing in her ears. And that was where Narcissa Malfoy found her, when she decided to stop by ‘on a whim’. Though, honestly, Ginny had a feeling Draco more than likely wrote his mother with a pleading request_ —Mother, I know you’re not on the best of terms with my wife, but Orion is your grandchild, your blood, and I fear Ginny is losing her mind. Would you please go by and make sure my wife is still a human and not a mad woman one second from running away—

_“Ginevra?”_

_Ginny focused on her mother-in-law, a woman who had made herself rather scarce whenever Ginny was around. Orion continued to cry in her arms, she knew her hair was wild and her skin pale and her nose running, and she tried to smile. She had never been alone with Narcissa before. Even now her mother-in-law looked rather like an angel, pale and beautiful with the glow of the fire behind her._

_“Ginevra?” Narcissa repeated. “I had the sudden urge to visit. I hope you don’t mind horribly. I would’ve written but…”_

_Blinking, Ginny looked from Narcissa to Orion, whose small face was red and tear stained. When she glanced back up at Narcissa, her face fell._

_“He won’t stop crying.”_

_The words left her mouth without her permission, hurried and desperate. Narcissa’s calm expression didn’t change, which only prompted Ginny to keep speaking._

_“He won’t stop crying and he won’t nap for more than a few minutes and I—I don’t remember the last time I showered, much less slept, and I’ve felt rotten the last few days, and I don’t want him to get sick but—but there’s_ no one _to help me. Draco, he’s gone, and I can’t ask him to come home just because I can’t take care of Orion, and my family, they’re all doing other things, and I should be able to do this, but I think I’m going mad, I do. I’m so afraid of just—just falling asleep with him in my arms and not realizing and—”_

_Narcissa’s lips twitched and she stepped forward. Reaching out, she pressed her hand to the top of Ginny’s head, her light eyes swirling with an emotion Ginny wasn’t sure of. It was the first time Narcissa had ever touched Ginny._

_She removed her hand and turned her attention to Orion._

_“Your father was the only one who could calm Draco when he was having a tantrum,” Narcissa murmured._

_Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed. Her father? Then it dawned on her; Narcissa was referring to Lucius. Narcissa didn’t notice her confusion or, if she did, didn’t care, for she continued talking._

_“Lucius wasn’t fond of babies, having never been around one, but Draco hardly minded that. It was Lucius’s touch Draco often wanted, likely because Lucius wasn’t always there to give it. Whenever Lucius was away for long hours at the Ministry, Draco would seem to be desperate to be held only by his father. May I?”_

_Narcissa’s gaze met Ginny’s. Ginny nodded, and her mother-in-law took Orion from her arms._

_“Come, Ginevra. You deserve a shower and some sleep.”_

_The offer was so tempting that Ginny almost let her eyes fall shut right then. But… but she could only imagine what Narcissa would say to Draco if Ginny let this all happen._

Your wife seems hardly competent, Draco. I could’ve found you someone better to raise a Malfoy heir. Must it have been a Weasley? Hadn’t we warned you enough about them? She seems to have no motherly instincts. 

_“I can’t possibly—”_

_“I insist,” Narcissa said, her voice leaving no room for arguments._

_“He’s so incredibly fussy,” Ginny told her, despite Narcissa’s hard tone. “I don’t want to burden you.”_

_For even now, in his grandmother’s arms, Orion continued to scream. Narcissa rocked him in her arms, staring down at the baby with a slight smile._

_“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised he has red hair,” Narcissa murmured, almost to herself. Then she glanced at Ginny, “Come now, Ginevra, sleep will do you well.”_

_And Ginny couldn’t say no again. When they moved to the master bedroom, Narcissa insisted Ginny shower, so she did. When Ginny finished bathing, she put on fresh clothes for the first time in ages and reentered the bedroom to find Orion only fussing slightly. When Ginny laid down, her eyes heavy, Narcissa was whispering soft things to the baby that Ginny couldn’t hear. She fell asleep easily, the last sight before her Narcissa stroking Orion’s chubby face gently._

_It was as she fell asleep that she woke up._

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

The nausea was almost overwhelming as her eyes snapped opened. 

She was sure she was going to be sick everywhere, to the point that Ginny had half fallen out of the bed before she could even process that Narcissa and Orion weren’t in the room with her, that she was at the Burrow, that she was alone. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she groaned as she kicked away the sheets. 

Bathroom, she had to get to the bathroom. 

Rushing to stand, and then swaying from the rush of blood to her head, it took Ginny several painfully long seconds before she got to the door and wrenched it open. She heard a loud cry of surprise but didn’t bother looking to see where it came from, for she had spotted the bathroom door open and rushed to it. 

“I was going to bring you water!” 

She recognized Pansy’s voice but had trouble focusing on it as she entered the bathroom. Falling to her knees in front of the toilet, Ginny leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the cool porcelain toilet. The nausea subsided. 

Pansy slowly entered the bathroom, the familiar click-click of her heels warning Ginny of her arrival. 

“Ginevra? Are you ill?” 

“I just feel… like I might be sick.” 

Her stomach twisted unpleasantly. Ginny breathed in sharply and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“I should write—”

“Don’t write Draco, I’m fine,” Ginny managed to say. “Just… just get me tea. Maybe some food. It’s just… my head hurts and it’s making me feel sick. But I’m fine.” 

Opening her eyes, Ginny focused on Pansy, who stood uneasily in the doorway. 

“Pansy, please, I’m fine.” 

Pansy nodded slowly. 

“Okay. Okay, yes, I’ll be right back. Don’t—don’t go anywhere.” 

She let out a surprisingly shrill laugh as she backed out of the bathroom. Ginny cursed mentally, already knowing even as sleep began to envelope her that Pansy was going to write to Draco

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~.


	14. Day Eight, part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **PLEASE READ!** One, as always, sorry for the long wait on this chapter! Before you continue on, please note that I had to change two parts of the timeline so that the events that occur in this chapter flowed smoothly. One event I had to change was the date of Draco and Ginny’s wedding anniversary; it went from 3 days before Christmas to a little over a week before Christmas (stated in chapter 13). The other part was the sequence of memories in chapter 9 with Luna. That’s all! Enjoy!

_There was something about Orion's smile that made everything else seem less important. Ginny supposed all parents felt like that, of course, but her heart still melted a little every time her darling baby smiled toothlessly up at her. Maybe it was because the baby had a habit of really making Draco and Ginny work for his smile that made it so magical._

_Orion was far too serious._

_They could spend hours making funny faces at Orion with no reward other than a dirty diaper or his cranky cries. It became one more thing that Draco and Ginny were rather competitive over—who could make Orion smile more? It was all in good fun, since it tended to end with Orion staring silently up at them while they cracked jokes to each other. Each joke would be increasingly more ridiculous._

_"Enjoying the latest wizarding gossip?" Ginny asked Draco. "The Daily Prophet must be miserable now that they can't blab about us anymore."_

_The back of her feet hit the cupboards below her in a steady rhythm as she swung her legs, eyeing her husband as he read the morning paper. She licked clean the spoon, willing him to look at her. After a moment, Draco did, an unamused expression coloring his face that could rival Orion's._

_"Ice cream for breakfast, Gin?" he replied, putting the paper down._

_"I was up with Orion at three a.m. last night for over an hour. I think I deserve a reward."_

_Orion slapped his hands against the table, as though in response. Ginny's attention flickered over to him but he was staring hard at the tabletop, scattering pieces of banana about. She looked back to Draco, surprised to find him standing from his chair._

_"I offered to get up with him."_

_"Right before you reminded me about your big meeting in the morning that you wouldn't want to look too tired for," Ginny shot back, grinning._

_Draco smirked as he approached her._

_"It wouldn't be becoming of me to look like a troll at work, not with investors present."_

_His stomach pressed against her knees as he filled her view._

_Tilting her head back, Ginny kept her gaze locked on Draco's as he leaned close to her. She heard him push the bowl of ice cream to the side before he gripped her thighs gently._

_"Is that how I look right now? Like a troll?"_

_"Not much worse than normal," Draco answered._

_Laughter fought its way from her mouth as she slapped his arm. Ginny could feel his smile against her neck as he buried his face there. Then, abruptly, Draco stepped away. Her eyes widened when she saw he held her bowl of ice cream in his right hand._

_"You prat!" Ginny shrieked. "That's my treat!"_

_"You know how I crave my sweets. You were teasing me. Rather rude, even you must admit that."_

_She hopped off the counter, lunging for the bowl, but Draco stepped out of her way easily. Glaring, she held up the spoon in her hand._

_"And how do you expect to eat my ice cream without a spoon, hmm?"_

_Draco rolled his eyes, dancing around her when she tried to grab at him again._

_"Oh, I'm not sure," he replied seriously. "How could I possibly eat this without a spoon? Perhaps if I took some pointers from your fool of a brother—"_

_Ginny ran at him. He turned before she could jump onto his front so she ended up grabbing awkwardly onto his back, reaching desperately for the bowl._

_"You're horrible for denying your wife her food!" Ginny cried out as Draco laughed while twisting and turning to keep her away. "Really, I'll tell your mum—"_

_That made Draco laugh harder and Ginny began giggling too, even as she continued to try to get the ice cream back. She reached out, fingers grasping at his wrist, when a sound made them both freeze._

_Looking to the left, they saw that Orion was watching them, loud giggles spilling from him. His chubby cheeks were red from the effort of it. Ginny stared in surprise, her breath catching. Orion had laughed at them before, quick bursts of amusement that generally followed one of his rare smiles, but this… this was much different._

_Looking away from her son, Ginny noticed the warmth in Draco's expression as he too stared at Orion. After a moment, he turned and met her gaze, a soft smile curled on his lips. Then, as though in congratulations, he handed her back the bowl._

_They were no longer in the kitchen at home. No, now Draco and Ginny were seated in Luna and Rolf's sunroom. Orion managed to grab onto some of Ginny's hair even though he was in Draco's arms, giving it a sharp tug that made her wince. Luna's excited chatter echoed off the windows as she spoke about the latest international trip she and Rolf had taken the twins on. The house morphed, darkening, and now Ginny was at the Burrow. Her mum was cooing over Orion, Hugo was sleeping upstairs, and Rose was taking up Arthur's attention as she sung some Muggle song Ginny didn't know._

_One moment, Orion was crawling for the first time to Draco—Ginny heard Draco yelling for her to come quickly from her study. The next, the baby was shakily taking his first steps towards his father as Ginny hovered nearby, grinning; Draco was anxiously waving him closer._

_Suddenly, Ginny was fighting back tears as her mum hugged her goodbye._

_"I've watched plenty of babies before, dear. He'll be fine," Molly assured her._

_Ginny sniffed loudly as she stepped out of her mum's embrace._

_"It's not that. I mean, I trust you, of course I do. I just don't think I'm ready to go back to work."_

_Her mum smiled kindly, cupping Ginny's cheek._

_"You've always loved flying. And I think you'll be happy to get back to it. If not, I doubt you'll find any resistance if you decide to stay home. Now set off before you get in trouble for being late to practice. You've been talking about this for weeks now. Orion and I will be here when you get back."_

_Ginny nodded, putting on a brave face that was hardly genuine, and glanced at Orion. He was about to knock over Molly's bag of knitting supplies. Automatically, Ginny went to grab it, but her mum waved her wand without even turning to look at the baby. The bag lifted off the table and hung suspended in the air, just out of Orion's reach._

_"Go, Ginny," Molly ordered._

_It was months later—at least, it felt like it—and the wind rushed through her hair as she raced towards the goal posts. Underneath her arm, the Quaffle was secure and snug. She knew she'd be able to easily get the Quaffle through the hoop; the Keeper was covering the far right post as she raced towards the left and would never make it in time to keep the Quaffle away. When the Quaffle left her grasp, soaring through the hoop, the crowd's cheers were deafening._

_She pumped a fist in the air and turned, her eyes automatically scanning the section she knew her husband was in. It wasn't hard to spot Draco, so pale compared to everyone else, nor the baby he held with the obnoxiously bright red locks. Ginny grinned and saw Draco lift Orion's arm so that he pumped the air as she had only moments ago._

_The sound of the crowd disappeared, replaced instead with the rustle of bedsheets and heavy breathing. Her fingers curled in the strands of Draco's hair, tugging lightly as she guided his lips to hers. Abruptly, she was stretching at practice with Maggie, who was informing Ginny all about her latest breakup. The Quidditch pitch faded away into Neville's backyard as she did lunch there with him and Luna._

_Next was tea with Narcissa, who had taken to indulging Orion with a gift or treat every time they met up, before the memory twisted into Orion babbling different words to the delight of Draco and Ginny. One moment she was rushing home from work to relieve her mum from watching Orion and the next she was jumping into Draco's arms when he returned home from a short trip._

_Bill and Fleur decided to move when Louis was born. Harry bought the property from Bill, a quick exchange that no one in the Weasley family was bothered over. And… the wind from the sea pulled at her hair. Ginny felt a strange sense of loss over Bill and his family moving, of them leaving Shell Cottage. But then she spotted Bill and Draco talking animatedly together about where Bill was planning on moving to, their bare feet sandy, and Victoire was splashing water on Orion's chubby legs and he was laughing so loudly that it seemed to drown out the sound of the ocean._

_She smiled._

_There were countless Ministry balls—whenever Draco's gaze met her own, she'd roll her eyes and his lips would twitch and she'd think about the first Ministry ball she had gone to where he kissed her out on the balcony. Sometimes, after circling the ballroom to network, they'd end up in an empty room, their harsh breathing broken by moans and laughter. Other times, they'd have a glass too much of wine or scotch and would end up at the table with Blaise and Pansy, giggling into their hands at something stupid Blaise had said._

_It was after a long day with Ron, where they mercifully teased each other while watching the children—Draco and Hermione were both at work—that she approached Draco with an idea._

_"Draco?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"I think we should have another baby."_

_Draco, who had been laying on his side beside Orion as the toddler played with his toys, looked up at her in alarm._

_"Well, I certainly hadn't been expecting that."_

_"I like to keep you on your toes," Ginny said, winking._

_He smirked and Orion glanced in her direction._

_"Mama!" he proudly cried out._

_Ginny slid off the couch onto the floor beside Draco and Orion. She reached out and ran her hands through Orion's curls, smiling at him._

_"Orion's not even two," Draco reminded her, bringing her attention back to the conversation she started. "And you'd have to miss another season with the Harpies."_

_He paused._

_"What's brought this on?"_

_Glad that he didn't seem too against the idea, she shrugged._

_"Hanging out with Ron today reminded me of what fun having a sibling is."_

_"Hanging out with_ him _reminded you of that?"_

_His smirk grew when she rolled her eyes._

_"Yeah. And Rose and Hugo; they're so close in age. They do everything together—"_

_"They also fight— all the time," Draco pointed out warily. "As do you and your brother."_

_She poked him with her foot. He swatted it away._

_"Just because we fight doesn't mean it's not fun having someone around to get into mischief with. Or talk to all the time. Yeah, Ron can be really annoying sometimes but… but there's also this sort of loyalty that siblings have that no one else understands. Just… just think about it, okay?"_

_The memories rushed by faster than before._

_It wasn't too long after her talk with Draco that her belly was swollen with another baby. Draco's ear was pressed against her bump and he was very seriously telling the baby inside that he expected it to look more like him than a Weasley, because it wasn't fair that he'd been outnumbered for so long in his own house, was it? In the blink of an eye, she was smiling at Blaise as he carried Orion in his arms, pointing out the different Quidditch balls in Quality Quidditch Supplies._

_"Quaf," Orion said when Blaise pointed at the red ball._

_"Quaffle, yes," Blaise replied, grinning._

_"Bwudge."_

_"Bludger, right again, you are."_

_"Switch!"_

_"Merlin, Ginny, I think you've got a genius on your hands. Must get it from me!"_

_Draco was rubbing her swollen feet, Orion was pointing to her belly and proudly proclaiming_ 'baby!' _, Molly and Arthur showed up for tea at the house with Narcissa and they were awkwardly formal but polite, Neville was sending letters groaning over having two Malfoy children at Hogwarts so close together, Luna was bringing the twins over to play with Orion, Hermione was spending time with Ginny in the library._

_She managed to focus on a memory and immediately felt the weight of a baby in her arms—it was almost unfamiliar, since Orion had grown so much. Light blond strands covered the baby's head. When he finished yawning, his eyes opened, showing swirling, dark gray orbs. Ginny smiled sleepily down at him._

_"You're tired too, huh, Rigel?" she whispered._

_The baby wrapped his tiny hand around her finger as she spoke. Draco was asleep beside her, his head resting awkwardly on her shoulder. In the other room, she could hear Orion giggling as Yolly the house-elf entertained him._

_Where Orion had been loud and upset as a newborn, Rigel was quiet and curious. It took exactly three months, two days, and four hours for Ginny to nickname Rigel._ Gray, Gray, Gray. _Blaise was much more at ease with Gray than he had been with Orion. Orion took great joy in showing Witherwings the new baby, often dragging the large, patient cat over to the bassinet so he could see Gray._

_Then, in a breath, Draco was putting the children down to sleep with the help of her mum, and Ginny was wandering towards Blaise and Luna in the backyard, barefoot. The feel of the soft grass against her skin reminded her of her childhood. She was almost to the pair when she heard them talking and hesitated. Their words drifted over to her._

_"I've missed you, Lovegood."_

_Blaise stared up at the sky as Luna studied him._

_"Why? I'm right here."_

_She reached over and laid her hand on his upper arm, squeezing it. Feeling rather like she was intruding on a private moment, Ginny began walking backwards as quietly as possible._

_"I… I sometimes think if we would've met at Hogwarts, properly, my whole life would've been different—"_

_Ron swung Rose around as Hugo chased after him. Orion tried to keep up but kept getting distracted—Ron and Hermione's house was much different than Draco and Ginny's. There was an obscene amount of Muggle objects in the house, Draco often pointed out. Ginny took a sip of her tea, fighting back a smile when she saw Draco rocking Gray to sleep in his arms as he went over some potential security issues with Hermione._

_Dinner at the Burrow, falling asleep with Gray's tiny hands curled in her hair, Orion laughing gleefully whenever he'd spot Draco home from work—_

_Her hands were deep in the soapy sink water. The water was too hot, but, at the moment, she didn't care. Yolly was with Orion and Gray upstairs and Draco would be home soon. Merlin, Draco would be home soon. Normally, the idea of seeing her husband was one that filled her with happiness. His hours at work were lengthening and she could see the strain on his face as he tried to balance everything. More than once, as they fell asleep, Draco had admitted to her that he was worried he wouldn't be able to handle it all: the children, work, Ministry events, successfully transforming Azkaban, her._

_And this… well, this was certainly going to shake things up a bit._

_From the other room, Ginny heard the_ whoosh _of the Floo. Draco only ever Flooed home if he was tired; he hated the soot that clung to his cloak and didn't like asking Yolly to clean it for him every day._

_Ginny's grip tightened on the plate. She waited only a moment before she heard Draco's footsteps outside the kitchen door. Then, he pushed it open and entered the room. Ginny went back to cleaning, tossing him a smile over her shoulder._

_"Hey."_

_"Hello," he replied, rewarding her with a tired grin. "Children upstairs?"_

_She nodded and turned her attention back to the dirty dishes. Not that she was getting much work done, but, still, it made it easier to collect her thoughts._

_As he moved around the kitchen, Ginny let the familiar sound of him calm her._

_"You're… doing the dishes."_

_"You're quite observant."_

_"Why are_ you _doing the dishes?"_

_Draco came up beside her, his arm brushing hers. She looked up at him and his gaze was curious, sharp, despite the obvious fatigue that made the skin under his eyes dark._

_"I know you've never cleaned anything before in your life, ever, but most of the time when something is dirty—"_

_"While I might've never cleaned anything, I did have plenty of house-elves growing up," he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "And, conveniently, we have a house-elf also. So why are_ you _doing the dishes?"_

_Ginny breathed in through her nose as his eyes lingered on her face._

_"I'm pregnant."_

_He froze as though she had hit him with a hex. Biting on her lip, Ginny lifted her hands from the water and wiped them on her pants. The warm water seeped through the fabric._

_She understood the panic that was beginning to highlight his face, really, she did. It seemed like just yesterday that Gray had been born, though it had been months now. And Orion, Merlin, he was a handful. Another baby? They were going to have another baby? They hadn't planned on it; both were ready to be done after Gray. Yet here they were._

_"Gin…" He stepped back from her, his eyebrows furrowed, as though trying to make sure she was serious._

_"I'm not joking."_

_"You can't be pregnant."_

_"Well, apparently I can be, because I am," she said, shrugging helplessly._

_"We can't have another baby. You can't be pregnant. Gray is—he's barely six months old."_

_When Ginny had told Draco she was pregnant with Orion, his eyes had brightened and his lips had broken into a beautiful smile that promised great things. When Ginny had told Draco she was pregnant with Gray, he had kissed the palm of her hand before tugging her close and mumbling about their growing family. This… this was not same, not at all._

_"It's not like I did this on purpose. I only just found out; I had gone in for a checkup with Gray—"_

_"We can't handle another baby, Gin! I—I can't do another kid, I can barely keep up—"_

_He ran his hands through his hair in frustration._

_"Draco—"_

_"We can't do this. How are we supposed to—"_

_"I understand, I do, but I need you—"_

_"— do we need a nanny? We said we'd never get a nanny!"_

_"We_ won't _, we'll figure it out, I swear—"_

_"How are we going to afford this? You'll be missing another season! How—how—_ fuck _—"_

_"Can you just breathe for a fucking second, Draco, you're freaking me out—"_

_Draco had never left Ginny in a state of dread before, but, when he stalked out of the kitchen, as if the sight of her was too much, she found it hard to breathe._

_Winter and spring passed in the blink of an eye as Ginny's belly grew once more._

_And Orion was_ talking. _When did that happen? He seemed to be constantly dragging his toy broom around, the model of which Draco and Ginny had fought over for weeks—Draco wanted the most expensive toy broom on the market while Ginny continually reminded him Orion was a_ toddler, _and they weren't spending that much on a bloody broom, not till he was at least six or seven and understood the difference—and he was babbling about_ everything, _all the time._

_She remembered mornings where she laid in bed with Draco and the boys, their eyes wide with wonder when the baby kicked. Draco's touch warmed her when he pressed his palm against her belly; the boys mimicked their father, though they looked far from confident when they felt the baby move. Ginny recalled the way her chest hurt as she watched the Harpies' practice from the stands—Orion wanted to come with her every time, far too obsessed with Quidditch. The feel of his tiny hand in hers as he pointed out the different players and their positions made the pain of not being able to play another season somewhat more bearable._

_The smell of wet grass filled her senses, and a memory came of her sitting in Luna's backyard, with the sun setting over the hills. Gray was asleep against Blaise's chest and Orion was playing in the mud with Lysander and Lorcan. Draco didn't notice how dirty his oldest was getting, too distracted by the ridiculous story Luna was telling about the leprechauns they had run into in Ireland. When Luna raised her hands above her head, eyes wide in the midst of storytelling, Draco snorted and Blaise laughed loudly, stirring Gray from his sleep._

_Celebrations flew by— birthdays and holidays and work promotions._

_There were lunches at Hermione's with the children and tea at Malfoy Manor with Narcissa and the high society women that Narcissa wanted Ginny to associate with: Parkinson and the Greengrass sisters, Bulstrode and Davis. They were all women from Draco's past that were a completely different breed of person than Ginny. Somehow, Parkinson ended up being the only one Ginny could relate to; she rolled her eyes when Astoria Greengrass shared the latest gossip, added salt to Bulstrode's tea when no one but Ginny was watching, and liked to interject the boring conversations with embarrassing stories from Hogwarts about the women present—Ginny included._

_It was on a Monday morning that Lyra was born, with wild red locks and a piercing scream. Draco, who had been initially upset at the idea of another child, refused to put the baby down, as if in apology for ever feeling anything but joy over Lyra's existence._

_It was on a Thursday evening that Draco came home, face flushed and eyes bright, and announced that the Ministry was moving forward with construction on Azkaban—within months, they'd be forcing the Dementors out and relocating the prisoners to other penitentiaries in nearby countries so they could work on Azkaban without any worries. Orion zoomed over to Draco on his broom, laughing at his father's excitement, Lyra was asleep in her swing, and Gray pointed to a picture in his book, bothered that Ginny's reading to him was disrupted. But Ginny met Draco's gaze and they both seemed to sag in relief. This had been years in the making._

_It was on a Saturday morning, when her mum and dad had taken the boys for the day, that Draco and Ginny sat at the kitchen table and felt somewhat normal again. Lyra was asleep—that girl certainly loved her naps, a blessing, truly—and Draco had made some coffee. She cupped the warm mug in her hands, enjoying the peace they so rarely received. Draco's eyes were on her, kind and lovely, and she smiled at him._

_"It's weird, isn't it?" she asked. "This is what we used to do every day, only a few years ago."_

_He made a sound of agreement._

_"It's weird not having the boys here," Draco admitted before taking a long sip of his coffee. Then he spoke again. "I saw that Maggie had written to you."_

_"Yeah."_

_"Have you given it any thought?"_

_Ginny cocked her head._

_"Given what any thought?"_

_"Playing with the Harpies for another season," Draco supplied, eyebrows lifting. "They'll begin recruiting soon enough."_

_Actually, it was one of the few things that constantly lingered in Ginny's thoughts these days. It had been two seasons since she played for the Harpies, and, while Maggie assured her she'd be able to win back her spot as Chaser, she wasn't sure if going back was the best idea. The children were still so young; what would she miss by being away so much? Lyra's first word? Gray beginning to read? Orion doing an actual trick on the broom?_

_She fidgeted and Draco took notice, putting his mug down and leaning forward slightly._

_"I'm not sure how I'd manage to be away from home for so long now," she finally said, frowning._

_Draco's lips mirrored hers, turning down sharply._

_"I'd be able to bring the children to you during your free time when you're traveling, like I did with Orion."_

_"All three of them? When you're already working into the weekend?" She paused. "Azkaban is finally getting actual work done… I can't see how we'd manage with both of us working full-time."_

_The words settled over them. Draco stared down at the table, his eyes moving as he thought over what to say. When he looked back up at her, he sighed._

_"I don't want a nanny to raise our children. Not like I had."_

_She nodded in agreement._

_"I could try to step back from the project," he offered slowly. "See if Potter's willing to take up more of the work. I could try not to take any more trips or… ask my mother for help—"_

_"Or I could take another year off from Quidditch. Maybe be done with it."_

_His eyes met hers in surprise, his mouth parting slightly, ready to shoot down the suggestion._

_"It's a rather dangerous sport, isn't it?" Ginny said before he could speak, a cheeky grin playing across her face. "I don't know what you'd do with all three kids if something happened to me."_

_Something twisted in the gray of Draco's eyes that warned that he was worried over about what she suggested, but—_

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Ginny jolted awake when there was an unexpected pressure against her forehead. She struggled to focus, her eyes adjusting to the bright lights in the… in the bathroom. Groaning, she shifted against the toilet, but a gentle hand kept her from standing.

Looking up, she stared in surprise.

"Harry?"

He smiled his familiar, crooked smile. She struggled again to get off the ground; his hand that rested on her shoulder gave her a squeeze but kept her in place once more.

"Feeling alright, Gin?"

Behind his glasses, his eyes intently took her in. She could only imagine how she looked, crumpled by the toilet. But… but he wasn't who she had been expecting to wake her up. Looking over his shoulder, she saw Pansy lingering uneasily in the doorway. Ginny looked back to Harry, trying to comprehend what was going on.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry shrugged.

"Pansy wrote me. I saw the owl when I was leaving Dudley's."

"I'm sure he loved that," Ginny mumbled, wiping a hand over her face.

His smile widened.

"He didn't notice it. But Pansy was worried about you. Asked me to stop by."

Something loosened in her chest and she stared up at Harry.

"Pansy didn't write Draco?"

"Not sure. She ushered me up here right away. She wasn't sure how to handle you."

Pansy made a sound behind him and they both turned their attention to her. She was gnawing on her bottom lip.

"If you die on me, Malfoy, your husband is going to kill me," Pansy informed her sharply. "Is she okay, Harry?"

Ginny's eyebrows rose in surprise when Harry looked back at her.

"Expert on head injuries, are you?" Ginny asked.

"More like headaches," Harry laughed. "I've had one or two bad ones back in my day."

She wanted to roll her eyes, but her head pulsed and a weak sigh escaped her instead. Harry pressed his hand to her head once more, a welcome pressure, and she let her eyes flutter shut. For a moment, the sounds in the bathroom—Harry's soft breathing, the anxious tapping of Pansy's foot, the echo of her heartbeat in her ears—faded away. The urge to drift back to sleep came over her, and sleep almost claimed her, with Harry's comforting touch weighing her down and the cool porcelain pressed against her skin. But then Harry's voice penetrated the silence and she opened her eyes again.

"Ginny? Hey, hey, you didn't even let me do my proper, professional checkup on you," he said as she focused on him again.

"Oh, shut up, Harry."

They shared a small smile. Then he sighed.

"You've been feeling nauseous?"

Ginny nodded.

"Sharp pains in the head? Like a migraine?" Harry asked, as if checking off a list.

"I was at St. Mungo's earlier this morning with Draco. The Healer told me I needed to get through this. I'm not going to die."

"Parkinson's a bit worried you will."

"More worried about Draco's reaction, I think," Ginny mumbled. "Are you worried over me?"

Harry rocked back on his heels, dropping his arms to his sides. The loss of his touch made her feel like she was floating in water; a wave of tiredness swept over her.

"No. Like I said, I've had plenty of headaches before. I get it." Harry paused. "I'm going to wait in here with you though, okay?"

"Yeah. Just stop poking me in my sleep."

Her eyes shut as she spoke but she saw concern shining on Harry's face and understood that he wasn't as comfortable with the situation as he made it seem. Not for the first time, she thought of how different it would've been if she had just made it work with Harry. If she hadn't let the breakup happen. If she had woken up with ten years of her memory missing, but she was married to Harry, had children with Harry, instead—

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

_"I'm going to be the oldest broad on the team," Maggie had cried when Ginny announced her official retirement from the Harpies._

_It twisted Ginny's heart to step away from Quidditch, a pain inside of her that went far deeper than she would've imagined, but she was home with the children now. Three children who tired her out as much as any Quidditch game. Orion was full of energy, constantly running around the room, yapping to her about Quidditch and his daddy being at work and how much he loves playing and can they go to the park? Gray followed in his brother's footsteps as fast as he could, tumbling and screeching in joy, though his attention was almost always taken by a book that was left out. Lyra was eating food after nursing and cooing and babbling nonsense; she napped often but, when awake, would watch her brothers with wide eyes._

_Whenever Draco came home from work, whether by dinnertime or a little earlier or much later, it was a welcome relief. He was always tired but a smile would tug at his lips as she sagged into his embrace. His familiar scent of mint would tickle her nose, and the comforting pressure of his hand against her back would help her relax, and, Merlin, she missed him. The children would then capture his attention, tugging at his pants—or, in Lyra's case, slowly crawling towards him from her spot._

_On the weekends, Draco and Ginny would lay in bed together for as long as possible, until they heard one of the children beginning to stir. Draco always said how happy he was that all the children inherited the Weasley ability to sleep through the night._

_One memory begged to be looked at, and, with as much energy as possible, Ginny focused on it._

_"—Mother wants us over for dinner tomorrow. I had said yes but I wasn't sure?" Draco trailed off, waiting to see whether she was pleased or not._

_Ginny shrugged, lifting her knees to her chest so she could wrap her arms around them. Amusement made Draco's lips twitch and she knew what he was thinking_ —you look like a child— _but she spoke before he could point it out._

_"That's fine. I'm desperate to get out of this house."_

_He made a sound of sympathy, though she knew he'd rather be home than at work. His long hours at Azkaban were beginning to wear on him. Pulling out a silver case from his back pocket, Draco grabbed a cigarette and snapped the case shut, returning it to its former home. Then he lit the cigarette, leaning his back against the house. Ginny watched from her spot on the bench as he inhaled deeply._

_Without any thought at all, he handed her the cigarette._

_"It's nice having you home," she told him, watching the smoke drift from his parted lips. Sometimes the pain she felt from not seeing Draco as much as she wished was overwhelming. "I'm losing my mind talking to just the kids all day."_

_She put the cigarette to her lips and inhaled. Draco's eyes flitted to her own, his eyebrows twitching._

_"Better than spending hours upon hours forcing the Dementors from one place to another."_

_The smoke burned her lugs and she breathed out. It lingered between them but didn't dull the tiredness Ginny saw in Draco's gaze._

_Getting the Dementors to leave Azkaban was not as easy as the Ministry had hoped. It had been a month already and, even with the help of Aurors, was taking far longer than projected to clear the Dementors from their dark, dreadful home. Ginny handed him back the cigarette._

_"What do you think of when you're conjuring a Patronus?"_

_Draco stilled, the cigarette dangling from his lips. He stared at her, incredulous._

_"You're serious, Weasley?"_

_She shrugged, grinning slightly. But then he dropped the cigarette without regard and came over to her on the bench. Lowering her legs in surprise, Ginny let Draco envelope her, his long body covering hers completely. He wrapped a hand in her hair, tilting her head slightly so that their eyes remained connected._

_"I think of you. The only happy memories I've ever had are with you and the life you've helped me build."_

_Her heart raced at the sincerity in his tone._

_"And that time your idiot brother puked slugs after trying to curse me," Draco added, smirking._

_Ginny laughed, reaching up to shove him lightly._

_"You prat," she tried to say but Draco leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that tasted like cigarettes—_

_Draco's hours at work lengthened. When he'd come home, he seemed to be half-dead, barely processing what anyone said to him before apologizing and stumbling to bed. Once the Dementors were gone everything would be better, she knew. He'd have more energy and more time at home. But the disappointment and confusion in Orion's eyes every time Draco waved off dinner and went to bed was enough to break her heart. And, to be honest, she missed talking to her husband._

_When the house became too much like a prison, Ginny and the children would leave. They'd go to the Burrow or Hermione and Ron's or Luna's. When Draco had left for a week for work—was it France he was going to? Or Italy? Ginny could hardly keep track, not when Orion had a temper tantrum and made all the books in the library explode off their shelves, not when Gray went missing in the house and was found thirty minutes later under Ginny's bed, not when Lyra was crying to be picked up—Ginny found herself desperate. Luna happily invited Ginny over for a sleepover with the children that was supposed to be for one night and lasted three days. On one of the nights, Luna told Ginny that her father was very ill and she wouldn't be traveling anymore._

_Ginny would talk to Draco late at night, his face glinting green through the Floo. Though the conversations were short, the small smile on his face as they looked over each other made it okay. When Lyra said her first word, however, and Ginny hadn't thought to tell Draco right away, she realized something was wrong._

_It took three months for the Ministry to properly test the new security system at Azkaban and approve it. Draco took a lengthy vacation once everything was settled; he slept for three days, only stirring at night to eat or use the bathroom. And then he was back, waking in the morning before Ginny to make their coffee and staying up late after the children were in bed to kiss her till she couldn't breathe._

_Orion started little league Quidditch. Gray became utterly fascinated with Charlie when he visited home and presented the toddler with a toy dragon. Lyra found joy in finger painting._

_During one of the weekly lunches with her family, in which Draco volunteered to watch the children by himself, a new desire washed over her._

_"George needs more help at the joke shop. Expanding to Hogsmeade might've been a better decision before we had kids," Angelina said, grinning._

_"Ron's not helping enough?" Molly asked. "He seemed so happy to be working there."_

_"Oh! Oh, no, Ron's helping plenty. I think George just wants it to go so smoothly that he's sort of not willing to let go of the reins yet."_

_"Maybe they need another Weasley over there," Hermione suggested, turning to look pointedly at Ginny._

_Ginny stared back in surprise before laughing._

_"I'm not working at the joke shop!"_

_"Well, why not?" Hermione asked. "You have more free time now, don't you?"_

_"That'd be brilliant!" Angelina cried out excitedly. "George would be—"_

_"I don't think that's for me," Ginny hurriedly cut in, when she saw Molly's eyes light up with glee. "I'd have to be there the same hours Draco's gone from home."_

_"Do you miss working much?" Angelina inquired curiously, leaning forward slightly._

_Opening her mouth, Ginny went to say that_ no, of course she didn't miss work, she loved being with the children. _But the words curled in her mouth, unwilling to leave her tongue. Chewing on her lip, Ginny gave it a long moment before replying._

_"I_ do _. I sort of feel bad saying it, but I do miss working. I enjoyed having something to do other than staying home all day. I don't know how you did it, Mum. Sometimes I feel like I'm going mad."_

_Her mum laughed, almost delighted to hear it._

_"I simply needed something to focus on for myself. I loved gardening, and, though the garden never looked exactly like I wanted, it was mine. You need a project, dear, something for you."_

_Two months later, when there was an opening at the Daily Prophet for a Quidditch reporter, she applied. When the interview went well, she discussed with Draco the idea of her picking up a job that she could primarily work at from home. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty, when he told her he thought it was an excellent idea._

_Memories rushed by._

_Christmas, Charlie staying at her house for a few days, the new year, a snow storm that raged so loudly outside the house that the children slept in bed with Ginny and Draco, the Ministry's pride over Azkaban being marked as having one of the best rehabilitation programs in the world, Ginny attending practices to interview Quidditch players, running into Asma Rahman who now worked as a receptionist at Azkaban—_

_"I know who it is."_

_"No, you don't," Draco drawled, though he eyed Blaise with interest._

_Blaise's smirk sharpened and Ginny rolled her eyes._

_"Just tell us!"_

_"Weasley, no need to yell."_

_"Don't tease us, then," she retorted, making Blaise laugh._

_"Well, if you must know, Potter's bringing Pansy to the Burrow for his birthday."_

_The group was silent; Ginny's jaw had dropped open in surprise. Harry and… and Parkinson? That couldn't be. It didn't make sense._

_"Oh, yes, Harry told me that he saw Pansy often at Shell Cottage," Luna informed them, interrupting the silence. Blaise pointed at Luna, as if to say,_ "See!" _"They've been on great terms for years now."_

_"Shell Cottage? That can't be right—"_

_"Our Pansy?" Draco croaked. "Our Pansy is dating_ Potter _?"_

_"Dating for quite a while now," Blaise added._

_"And she told_ you _before me?" Draco snapped._

_Luna giggled. Ginny shared a long look with Draco before shrugging. After all, what did it matter if Harry and Pansy were dating?_

_It was a rainy day when Draco approached Ginny, caution swirling in his eyes._

_"I think it's time the children met their grandfather. My father."_

_"Are you mad?" she breathed, heart racing immediately. "Meet your father? You can't—we can't—"_

_"He's family. Don't be unreasonable. They deserve to get to know him—"_

_"You're the one being unreasonable! He tried to kill me, Draco! And take the kids to Azkaban, I would_ never—"

_Something close to hurt colored his face._

_"Do you not trust Azkaban to be safe enough? Fuck, Gin, I've only been working on it for years now—"_

_He took them to Azkaban with Narcissa when Ginny relented. She stayed holed up in her bedroom, memories of her first year plaguing her till her family arrived home. Relief filled her when she saw that Draco looked as drained as she felt when he came to her; he tiredly sat on the floor beside her, the warm air from the open window calming them both as they sat in silence._

_It was on Lyra's second birthday that Draco came to Ginny with news: he'd been offered another job, in Spain. They wanted him to help rebuild a prison there, to make it more like Azkaban. Dread had bubbled in Ginny's stomach as he spoke to her but she couldn't ignore the excitement in his voice, the way his hands moved as he spoke._

_"I plan on assembling the team I used to rebuild Azkaban, but to make something more official of it. Azkaban was such a success that if I manage to work on Nurmengard—Gin, it's the second biggest prison in Europe—then I could have an actual career; something more than simply overseeing Azkaban. I could be doing_ more. _More for us, more for the family."_

_Even though she wanted to say no, even though she wanted to beg him to simply stay as a security advisor to Azkaban, she knew she couldn't. It hadn't been that bad, those months when he had been working on Azkaban nonstop, had it? And the children were older now. She was working, mostly from home, and that would help keep her sanity. Right?_

_One moment she was with Draco at their kitchen table, hesitantly agreeing to his new project, and the next… the next moment everything was rushing by._

_Draco was gone often. Ginny was working to meet her deadlines, while also making sure the kids didn't set anything aflame when their tempers got the best of them. Honestly, how did her mum do it? But if Molly Weasley could do it, then Ginny could, too. She refused to be less than her mum._

_Little league practices, dinners at the Burrow with her brothers and parents, staying up late in her study to finish her articles, talking to Draco through the Floo so he could say goodnight to the children, laying in the backyard with Luna as the children played nearby, trying to remind herself to breathe, breathe,_ breathe _as she balanced everything…_

_The air was cooler now than it had been all season. Autumn was officially here, she supposed. Turning her head, she saw that Luna's attention was completely on the sky. She looked troubled._

_"Luna?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Everything okay?"_

_Luna looked at Ginny, her expression blank._

_"I wonder, sometimes, at how different my life would've been if I had waited for another type of love."_

_Ginny stared in surprise. Only a moment ago, they had been discussing writing Neville about ways to care for a garden come winter. Blinking, Ginny tried to think what to say. Then, rather unsure, she said the first thing that came to mind._

_"Do you not love Rolf anymore?"_

_It felt weird to ask the question, but, once she did, some things began to fall into place. Luna hadn't been going on excursions with Rolf, instead wanting to keep the twins close by her ailing father. But what if it were more than that?_

_"He is one of my greatest friends. I love him." Luna paused. "Do you love Draco?"_

_"Yes," she answered, without having to think on it._

_"Is he one of your best friends?"_

_"Yeah, of course."_

_"And he's your soulmate? You love him more than just a friend?"_

_"Yeah… Luna, do you not… do you not care for Rolf romantically?"_

_Luna didn't seem bothered by the question, instead tilting her head as she thought._

_"Sometimes I think I was confused when I married Rolf. I love him. Sometimes I'm not sure our relationship will ever compare to yours and Draco's."_

_"Luna," Ginny breathed, her heart twisting._

_After all, how many times had Ginny cursed Draco recently over leaving her alone with the children so often? How many times had she fought tears as the children screamed and cried and she had to take a long minute in the kitchen to catch her breath, hating herself for letting Draco take the promotion? She suddenly felt incredibly selfish._

_"Luna, no relationship is perfect. Don't… don't use mine and Draco's relationship as an example of—of greatness. We fight, we struggle, we—"_

_"But you're a team. You're soulmates. I'm not sure if me and Rolf are a team anymore, if we ever were."_

_Ginny reached out and grabbed Luna's hand._

_"Every relationship has ups and downs. Give it some time. Keep working on it."_

_Luna smiled, but it seemed incredibly sad._

_The conversation with Luna bothered Ginny for weeks. Luna, on the other hand, hardly seemed upset at all; anytime Ginny saw her afterwards, the witch was her normal, bubbly self. But when a month passed and Ginny only saw Draco for a few days at a time—their conversations mostly about his work and briefly about the children and what they had been up to—she decided something needed to change._

_It wasn't that she wasn't happy with their situation, per se, because she was happy to be focused on something other than just the children and he was happy to be working on another project but… Luna's words of hesitation about her own relationship, Luna's confidence in Draco and Ginny, made a strange surge of doubt wash over Ginny._

_"I need to send out these letters," Draco muttered to himself. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the government in Spain is harsher with their regulations when it comes to—"_

_Ginny listened, her knees bouncing from nerves. When Draco went to stand, his mind already drifting to what work he needed to accomplish before bed, Ginny reached out and grabbed his wrist. He stilled at the contact, focusing on her completely for the first time that night. The tension left her when she realized she had his full attention, and she gave him a weak smile._

_"There you are," she teased._

_Draco blinked._

_"Sorry. I was rambling, wasn't I?" he asked, settling back in his seat. "Did you say something?"_

_"Oh, no, I just… I feel like we haven't talked. You know, just us, without the kids around."_

_He stared at her, his eyes darting over her face._

_"Indeed," Draco replied slowly. "What's wrong?"_

_She hated that he could read her so easily. Sighing, Ginny released her hold on him and leaned back. The words tumbled out of her mouth with little regard._

_"I've been thinking recently; I had been talking with Luna and she just—she said something that really stuck with me, and, I don't know… I hardly see you anymore. We don't talk anymore, at all, about anything other than your job and the children. And I miss having you around. It's different without you home."_

_His face became blank as she spoke and her stomach clenched._

_"I mean, Draco, I'm so proud of everything you're doing for us. That you've done. But I think that it wouldn't be—would it be such a bad idea if you, I don't know, had someone come on board with you that could help you manage the load? So you could be home more. I feel like…"_

_She trailed off when he had no reaction to her words. Suddenly, she felt rather foolish. There was something in his expression that made her think he wished he had rushed away to send out those letters a bit faster, before she could grab him._

_Ginny cleared her throat and went to speak again, knowing she was talking to fill the awkward silence, but he beat her to it._

_"What did Lovegood say?"_

_Despite the fact that he aimed for curiosity when he asked the question, there was a sense of hostility in his voice that made Ginny's back straighten. She frowned, wondering if she mistook the anger in his tone. But, no, she could see in the tightness of his lips that he was displeased._

_"She was talking about her and Rolf, and me and you, and—"_

_"Why is she discussing our relationship?"_

_His fingers were drumming against the table top slowly as he waited for her answer. Ginny lifted her eyebrows. Why was he making this a fight?_

_"She's not," Ginny replied, trying to keep the heat from her voice. This wasn't a fight. She wouldn't let it be. "It was just something that she mentioned that made me want to talk to you. I shouldn't have even said her name—"_

_"But you did."_

_"Can you let me finish talking?" she growled, hands curling into fists. "All I want to talk about is maybe you spending more time at home."_

_"You told me you were okay with this," he reminded her. "You knew what it would be like."_

_"Yeah, and I forgot how bloody hard it is being here by myself all the time."_

_"I'm home much more than I had been when I worked on Azkaban."_

_"And all you do is talk about work! Or you're in your study talking to all your—your people. Sometimes it's like you're not even here, Draco!" Ginny cried out._

_She swallowed thickly when she realized her words. But, Merlin, it was true. He was like a ghost sometimes, floating from one room to the other, halfheartedly spending time with the children when it was obvious his head was in a different place._

_"I miss us having actual conversations, I miss_ talking _to you."_

_"You miss conversations like this?" Draco sneered, standing stiffly from the table. "While this has been so much fun, I have actual work to do, darling. I hope you understand."_

_His eyebrows rose and she heard the words he wanted to say but didn't_ : work that actually matters, a job that means something, without me my job would fall apart but without you there would be no difference at the Daily Prophet—

_Ginny flinched and then hated herself for it. His eyes lingered on her as her face flushed, but she pushed away from the table and stormed from the room before he could say anything else._

_Eventually, he apologized and agreed. He should be home more, it wasn't fair to her, he got too wrapped up in the new project. He'd find a solution to this issue, something to relieve some of the pressure from him, and as soon as he did he'd let her know._

_Sometimes, she felt like it was all back to normal. He'd come home from work, or a trip, and would wrap her in his arms as soon as he spotted her. Any fight she had in her would flee, and she'd bury her face in his robes that smelled of him and forget for a minute how absolutely horrible it had been while he was gone. Ginny liked to think he'd forget about their issues too, that he'd actually let himself detach from work during his time home._

_During those days of freedom, he'd sit in the library with the children, listening to each of their conversations dutifully, even though they likely made no sense to him. At night, he'd hold Ginny close when she curled up against him, and they'd stare up at the sky, sharing the rare cigarette they allowed themselves. When Gray said he wanted a cat like Witherwings, Draco made sure to return from his trip with a kitten bundled in his cloak. Ginny had tried to be angry—because, honestly, she didn't think she had the patience to care for another living thing—but the way Gray's eyes brightened stopped her._

_Sometimes she'd catch Draco in his study with Lyra in his lap. He'd be focused on looking over the parchment in front of her, but he'd always respond to Lyra when she reached for him. And, sometimes, he'd ask Yolly to watch the younger two so that Orion could be taught some maneuvers on his broom by his parents. It would seem like all was right and that the time he spent away meant nothing._

_"I bought this for you," Draco informed her as they lay in bed together._

_Ginny turned the box over in her hands, ignoring the tingles his fingers provoked as they danced over her thigh. Her eyes darted from the box to him, but he wasn't looking at her. His gaze was trailing over her body. Warmth pooled in her stomach as she noticed how dark the gray of his eyes was. She cleared her throat pointedly and he looked up at her, the corner of his lips curling._

_"More perfume? This has to be the sixth box you've given me in the last year."_

_"Yes, well, I was hoping you'd get the hint by now—"_

_He broke out in laughter when she launched herself at him, a wicked grin coloring her face. Eventually, the perfume, which she'd later discover smelled lovely, was abandoned as they hastily undressed._

_But the bad days always seemed to come back._

_Draco would still be gone. Ginny still found herself increasingly overwhelmed. There were times it was impossible to get ahold of Draco when he was on a trip. She'd try to reach him through Floo, her face in the warm fire, and he wouldn't be in his office or room. If she wrote him a letter, she'd certainly hear from him, but the owls took days to get to and from Spain._

_Ginny worried when the loss of his company didn't seem to affect her as much as it used to. Before, she'd wait anxiously to hear his voice at night. It seemed to be the only thing that got her through the day. Now, though… well, now the children seemed intent on keeping her distracted throughout the day and she'd collapse in her room late at night, absolutely drained, before a thought of her husband would drift through her head._

_Had he had a good day? What was he doing? Had he thought of her? When would he be home?_

_There were times he came home and work obligations followed him. There were so many Ministry events that Draco was required to attend, with Ginny at his side, that she soon grew sick of the gatherings. She supposed the only thing that helped was Blaise and Pansy's presence._

_One event stuck out in her mind: Ginny thanked Merlin that she hadn't worn heels with how much she had to follow Draco around the room and stand and listen to him talk to people she hardly cared about. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as Draco listened intently to two of his coworkers. Her eyes scanned the area. Blaise was around here somewhere, she knew. Ginny doubted Draco would care too much if she abandoned him early tonight and went to sit with Blaise._

_Ugh, she wanted more wine._

_"Ginny? Gin?"_

_She looked back to Draco, flashing an apologetic smile when she realized that he was trying to introduce her to someone. One of his eyebrows rose high, but he didn't comment on her inattentiveness. Looking away from him, Ginny's breath caught when she met the gaze of the other person._

_"You remember Cho Chang, don't you?"_

_How could she forget Cho Chang? The familiar bad taste that came whenever Ginny spotted Chang filled her mouth, and her smile became forced. It wasn't fair, she knew, that she still disliked Chang because of her relationship with Harry back in Hogwarts. After all, it had been years since she had seen Chang and there was no reason for her to still hold ill will towards the other woman. Taking a deep breath, the strain in her smile lessened._

_"Of course," Ginny replied, holding out her hand. "You look… wonderful."_

_And she did. Chang's dress clung to her figure, and her hair was pulled back and styled prettily, showcasing her lovely face._

_"Thank you," Chang answered, smiling. "You do too! Isn't it mad how long it's been since we've last seen each other?"_

_Draco shifted beside her, and Ginny's eyes darted to him, and then back to the woman in front of them, who was still talking excitedly. Why was Chang even here? Ginny had been coming to these events for ages now and had never seen Chang before. Had she gotten a job at the Ministry?_

_"—very eager to be working so closely with your husband. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each—"_

_"What do you mean?" Ginny interrupted. "You're on his team now?"_

_Draco hadn't mentioned that to Ginny. She felt Draco stiffen beside her, ever so slightly, and something cold poked at her, making her heart race._

_"Yes! Well, I suppose it's not official yet, is it, Draco?"_

_Chang looked at Draco expectantly, and Ginny turned her attention to him also._

_"It's… yes, it's official. Kingsley will be announcing it tonight, I'm sure."_

_"What are you doing for his team?" Ginny asked._

_"Oh, well." Something like confusion spread across Chang's face as she looked between Draco and Ginny. "I'm to run the team with Draco, to take on the Nurmengard project with him."_

_And why wouldn't Chang be confused as to why Ginny wouldn't know this already? Because what husband wouldn't tell his wife such a huge development? A rushing sound filled her ears. Draco was saying something, and then Chang was leaving. Ginny wasn't sure she had even said goodbye to the witch before Draco was steering her away._

_She focused when Draco gave her a glass of wine._

_"Chang? She's going to be your partner?" The words felt like they were choking her, and she took a deep breath. "You didn't even tell me you were looking for a partner."_

_Surprise flashed across Draco's face before disappearing. She wondered if she had imagined it._

_"You said you wanted me to have more time at home."_

_Irrationally, anger washed over her._

_"Were you ever going to tell me about this? Or do I have to find out all my information from her now?"_

_Swirling the scotch in his glass, Draco studied her._

_"You said you didn't want me talking about work as much."_

_A wave of heat washed over Ginny._

_"That's not what I meant!" she said loudly. "That'd be like if I decided to switch from the Harpies to another team without telling you!"_

_"Hardly comparable. It's not as if I quit my job and didn't mention it. And you don't play for the Harpies anymore."_

_The words were meant to be cutting, and they were. Ginny pressed her lips together and looked away, lest her mouth begin to tremble. Then she looked back at him, fighting to regain control of her breathing._

_"You should've told me."_

_"What is it you want then, darling? For me to talk to you about work or for me to be more focused on you? Which is it? Which is it?" he hissed._

_"Why can't it be both?" Ginny cried out._

_"Draco, Ginny!"_

_They spun around to find Kingsley smiling at them. Ginny fought to clear the outrage from her face, as Draco had so easily done beside her, but after a moment she had to excuse herself to get away from him. The memory faded._

_It was a complete betrayal to her normal confidence, this sudden doubt. But… but the image of Draco standing beside Chang, smirking at her in her beautiful dress robes that clung to her, seemed burned in her mind. She looked over herself in the mirror, at the stretch marks that streaked across her flesh, at the difference in her breasts from years of feeding the children—now that she really looked at herself, it seemed her whole body had changed._

_Did Draco notice too? How could he not? He never said anything, never, but it didn't mean he didn't take note of it. And now he spent most of his time at work helping Chang get the hang of things—so that he could be home more. It would take some time to get her caught up on the project, Draco had warned Ginny, as if trying to prevent her from getting mad at him._

_Now he was with Chang in Spain, doing who knows what…_

_"Stop it," Ginny ordered, turning away from the mirror._

_It would do no good to let those thoughts into her head._

_But…_

_"Just stop," she whispered._

_Sometimes she wondered if she had forced some type of change onto her and Draco's relationship by asking him to stay home more. Ginny would watch the children play and wonder why Draco didn't rush home from his days at the Ministry, from his trips to Spain. All they seemed to do was fight when they were together now—_

_"I want to have an actual discussion about this."_

_"What, pray tell, would you call this, then?"_

_"A fight! We're fighting, Draco—"_

_"I'm not fighting._ You're _fighting."_

_"Yeah, I guess so. Because you don't seem to be doing much at all—"_

_—but he still seemed as busy as he did before he had Chang helping him. He'd come home and distractedly spend time with the children and ask her questions about her day, though he hardly listened. And then he'd disappear into his study. Most nights she'd be asleep for hours before he'd come to bed. Ginny knew he had insomnia when stressed, knew there had to be more to it than what was going on between them, but he wouldn't talk to her about it._

Just make him talk, make him tell you what's wrong, make him smile again…

_Quickly became—_

Don't let him hide away, don't let him be emotionless, make him fight, make him stay…

_Because his study seemed to become his refuge when he wasn't hidden away at the Ministry and Ginny felt like she could scream sometimes. Where was her partner? How long did this last before one of them snapped?_

_It came up only once, at a place it never should have been mentioned. She had been angry and tired and_ drunk _; bloody Zabini very much enjoyed making sure Ginny always had a full glass of wine in her hand at these Ministry balls, so that her guard fell and she'd make fun of their friends more willingly with him. And when she had spotted Draco across the room with Chang—Chang who had greeted Ginny so happily at the beginning of the night and who was now grabbing Draco's arm as she laughed—something seemed to snap. One moment, she was beside Zabini, who was mocking Percy about his dress robes, and the next, she was storming across the dance floor. She could hear Zabini racing to catch up with her, to stop her, but she was too fast—_

_"Are you fucking Chang then? Is that why you never want to—"_

_Draco looked as though she had slapped him, the flash of hurt coloring his face in a way that made him appear more vulnerable than he had in years. And, between them, the words hung. The music was loud, thankfully, so only Draco and Chang heard her hissed questions. There was a change in the air and something seemed to break between Ginny and Draco as he stared at her._

_Blaise stumbled beside her, panting. He grabbed her hand and tugged at her, stopping her from finishing her sentence; something about the scene must have warned Zabini that all was not well._

_"Let's—er, get back to the table, Gin—"_

_Her gaze was yanked away from Draco's as Blaise pulled at her._

_At home that night, she waited by the window for her husband to return. Her head roared from her much-deserved hangover; Zabini refused to let her drink after she told him what she had said to Draco. He had forced her to leave the event early with him, though she hardly fought him on it. She heard the front door open and then close, heard Draco's soft footsteps as he found her, as if he knew she'd be waiting for him in the library._

_His breath was warm on the back of her neck, and he grabbed lightly onto her arms, as if to hold her into place so she couldn't run away from him. Or, maybe, so he didn't have to look at her face. The idea of it made the fury inside her come to life again. Draco's words, low and furious, drifted to her._

" _You think I'd want to fuck_ another _woman who had been besotted by_ Potter _?"_

_Why had she asked him? It wasn't worth the fight, she knew that, yet her mouth refused to stay shut. If he insisted on dragging her through hell, she was going to drag him down with her. Ginny tried to shake his hands off her arms as he continued hissing in her ear, ready to fight, ready to push him away, ready to scream._

_He let go of her when she pulled out her wand and zapped him with a stinging jinx. Draco's eyes were burning, he was so furious she could_ feel _it, and a trill of satisfaction raced through her. Now, it seemed, she had his full attention._

_"Well, you didn't deny it,_ dear _."_

_As much as she wanted to fight, though, she didn't get to. Draco stared at her like she was a complete stranger and left her be._

_When he went on his next trip to Spain and spoke to her barely at all, only sending her an owl at the beginning of the trip to let her know when he'd be able to Floo the children, she knew she had to apologize. She had been drunk and_ wrong. _Draco would never cheat on her. He loved her. They were just going through a rough time. Ginny would apologize and it would fix everything—_

_"You embarrassed us! You embarrassed_ me _! Don't you think the Malfoy name has been dragged through the mud enough? You think I've been working this hard for me alone?"_

_"I know, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—"_

_"She's a colleague of mine, and now she believes you think we're having an affair. Are you mad? Have you officially lost your mind?"_

_"It—it was a moment of… of weakness. I don't know what to say—"_

_"There's nothing to say. You asked me to find help so I could spend more time with you, and then you accuse me of cheating when I do! Is there a right way for me to go about this? What have I done wrong?"_

_"Nothing! Draco, nothing, I swear, I'm sorry!"_

_It felt like she no longer had a grasp on anything. Draco refused to spend any time with her alone whenever he was actually home. Her apologies fell on deaf ears. The children didn't seem to notice anything amiss; or, maybe, they simply thought this was how all parents acted. Ginny's heart ached at the thought._

_Each day revolved around the children, then work, children, then work. If Draco was home, he'd often take the children over to his mother's, the invitation open to Ginny as well, though the message seemed rather clear when his eyes would finally meet her own that she was not wanted. It went on for months._

_At night, as the spot in bed next to her remained empty, she thought of Draco's words_ —hasn't the Malfoy name been dragged through the mud enough? _Out of desperation, a plan formed. A plan that was surely insane and took weeks to try to figure out, a plan which made her question everything about her relationship with Draco. How would she pull this off? She needed to do this, but how? Then she stumbled upon Asma Rahman in Diagon Alley, and everything clicked._

_"You work at Azkaban. You can help me."_

_"You can't honestly think I'd be able to sneak you in?"_

_"Not sneak me in. Just keep the information from Draco. He'll never need to know."_

_She was going to see Lucius Malfoy; it was the only thing she thought would help Draco see that she was_ trying. _If she could show Draco that she had gone out of her way to befriend his father, if she was able to start going to the visits with Draco and the children, if she had some sort of relationship with Lucius, maybe Draco would be able to forgive her. It was a ridiculous thought, but, honestly, she wasn't sure what else to do. And once she had run into Asma, it felt like the right thing to do._

_Ginny planned everything so carefully—the children were at her parents', Draco was on a work trip—and it actually worked out. The cell was empty when she entered, until it wasn't, until a man who looked far too much like Draco stared at her with such burning curiosity that she almost took a step back._

_"Daughter," Lucius Malfoy purred. "What a pleasant surprise."_

_She stared at him, sure she was going to spew the contents of her stomach._

_"I believe it's safe to assume my son doesn't know you're here?"_

_Ginny had gotten sick as soon as she arrived home. She hated herself, she_ hated _herself, how could she have done that? The visit was pointless and Lucius spoke in circles the whole thirty minutes until, of course, she was leaving and he informed her that it was a miracle with how little she did for the family that the Malfoy name had any weight at all. Lucius' words were meant to be harsh, but, instead, they made Ginny see him for the first time; perhaps he could be more than a means to heal her relationship with Draco._

_Memories flew by. Orion woke up early every morning to spend time with Ginny alone, Gray had memorized all the dragon breeds in Europe, Lyra set far too many fires when her temper took over, Draco looked at her and she saw his father sometimes, a calculating look in his eyes that made her shiver. If he ever found out she had gone to Azkaban, even if it was for their own benefit, who knew how he'd react. And yet she went back again and again, desperate to find a solution in Lucius._

_"Are you still upset about the diary?" Lucius asked, his smirk as sharp as his words._

_Ginny shrugged nonchalantly._

_"I'm more upset that you managed to survive the war."_

_It was easier to read Lucius' expressions since she knew Draco's so well. Something close to amusement flitted across his face._

_"But we don't have time to talk about our feelings," Ginny said before he could say anything back._

_His eyebrows rose._

_"Ah, yes, you've come because you want me to tell you how to be a better wife to my son."_

_"I came so you can tell me how to be a better_ Malfoy _," she corrected._

_Lucius started slightly before inclining his head, as if appreciating that she was at least acknowledging how horrible a Malfoy she was. And, surprisingly, he seemed to enjoy telling her how to be a proper Malfoy._

_Ginny took the advice he gave and put it into action._

_"I'm going to throw a Christmas Eve party."_

_Draco didn't seem to hear what she said, staring out the window in his study. The doors had swung open to allow her entry, and she had tried not to hesitate. But he didn't look at her when she entered and now seemed content to ignore her completely._

_Her heart raced, and she felt a bit sick, and, fuck, she just wanted to go back in time and stop herself from ever accusing him of cheating. She twisted her hands in front of her, unsure of what to say._

_"Draco?"_

_"Why?" The single word was so softly spoken she barely heard it._

_Why? Because she had to make amends somehow. Honestly, she hated planning any sort of get together, but… but Lucius had suggested, rather rudely, that perhaps she take up the proper mantle of wife and host something, to flaunt the Malfoy status, to put on a good front for the public if she was capable enough to handle such a responsibility._

_"Because the Malfoys haven't hosted an event in far too long," she replied._

_He looked at her, processing what she said._

_"I'm going to do this right, Draco. I promise."_

_The weeks rushed by. The Christmas Eve party was grand and far too expensive, and Ginny was utterly exhausted by the end of it. She had never played pretend for so long in her life. It felt rather like when she was watching the children at home by herself; she rushed around so much to make sure everyone was happy that she thought her feet would fall off. But Ministry officials came. Her family came, and his mother came, and Chang made an appearance, though she clung desperately to her date. The children laughed as their cousins ran around with them, and Draco… Draco had seemed happy because of something she had done for the first time in such a long time._

_And it seemed to fix_ something _between them, though she wasn't sure what. They'd be out with their family and friends, at the Burrow for dinner or Malfoy Manor for tea or the park for a birthday celebration, and she'd reach for his hand and he'd allow her touch, his eyes flitting up to meet hers. He'd talk about work and she'd nod along as if she knew everything he spoke of already; someone would mention her latest article and he'd agree with her view—she'd wonder if he had even read it._

_Sometimes the façade managed to hold once they got home. They'd put the children to bed and then find each other, sweet kisses that became desperate, soft touches that became rushed, gasping, hurried, passionate. Draco knew her body, knew where to touch her to make her cry out. They'd move together as if they had never been separated at all._

_Sometimes the illusion would shatter as soon as the front door shut. Ginny would usher the children to their rooms, and Draco would go to his study. She'd be asleep before he'd come to bed—or, at least, she'd pretend to be. When had she become such a coward? It was as though that dreaded accusation had stolen her courage from her. She had done wrong, and she had to deal with the consequences of it—_

_"What's wrong?"_

_Ginny started, not realizing she had been zoned out. She looked over at Luna, whose head was cocked curiously._

_"Nothing," Ginny answered easily, even as her chest seemed to tighten._

_Lysander and Orion were playing on their broomsticks, chasing each other around the yard. Lorcan was napping beside Lyra. Gray was playing with his toy dragon out by the garden. Everything was peaceful. She wasn't stuck in her house for once. And… and she couldn't stop thinking about Draco._

_"You don't look well," Luna noted._

_"Having three children doesn't exactly afford me the luxury of doing my hair or makeup anymore," Ginny informed her dryly._

_"I wasn't trying to be mean," she responded patiently. "And it's not that you look tired or awful. You don't look yourself. You don't look happy."_

_The words, softly spoken, hit her hard. Ginny stared at Luna and tried to take a deep breath, tried to deny it, but her face crumbled. She didn't tell Luna the full truth—because how could she tell anyone about how horrible she had made things with Draco and how she was visiting Lucius and how she felt like she had somehow lost herself and everything else—but she did let herself cry quietly, lest she attract the attention of the children._

_Luna reached for her hand, a very serious expression on her face._

_"We'll be a team, then."_

_Luna brought the boys over often after that. Blaise, who always made himself present if Ginny reached out to him or if Draco was home for the weekend, began coming over unannounced to spend time with them. Ginny had allowed this phenomenon to occur exactly eight times before she called him out on it._

_"Blaise."_

_"Ginevra."_

_She glared at him and he smiled brightly in response. They were standing in the back garden, watching Luna and the children farther down below. Blaise pointed at the group before them._

_"Isn't that your son eating dirt?"_

_Ginny grimaced; Orion had decided he wanted to see if dirt actually tasted good. Luna had waved off Ginny's attempt at assisting her help Orion cough it up. The rest of the children were in a half half-circle around them, looking rather like they weren't sure whether Orion had made a good or bad decision._

_"Don't distract me," she said. "Blaise…"_

_"Oh, Merlin, spit it out," Blaise groaned, when she paused. "What is it?"_

_She faltered, unsure of how to word what she was thinking._

_"Do you…fancy Luna?"_

_He levelled her with a startlingly blank look that would make Draco proud._

_"It would be disrespectful to Luna's marriage if I answered that," he answered shortly._

_Ginny's eyebrows rose of their own accord. Blaise, she knew, hardly cared about the sanctity of marriage._

_"You've been coming around a lot since Luna's started coming by with the children—"_

_"Ginny, stop," Blaise ordered, though his voice was soft and almost pleading._

_Then he walked away from her, towards Luna and the kids, leaving her feeling strange. Maybe she overstepped there but… but she remembered Luna's hesitation from so long ago about Rolf._

_Months passed—or was it years? It was hard to tell. Luna became Ginny's savior. They did everything together. Ginny had always heard it took a village to raise a child, and, Merlin, she understood it now. Sometimes she wondered how she managed so long without Blaise and Luna's help; then she'd think of her husband and she'd force the thought away, because she had decided long ago that even if she hadn't been a good wife, she could at least be a good Malfoy and make Draco happy in some sense._

_The children grew. Work remained steady. Draco finished the Spain project, with much praise from the media and the wizarding community as a whole. He moved on to a project in the States; apparently, they had multiple prisons there that they wanted Draco to start working on one by one. She thought of fighting him on it but didn't. Once the project began, Blaise, Luna, Lorcan, and Lysander filtered in and out of the house more often than Draco._

_It became_ easier.

_She'd respond when she had time to Draco's letters, always sure to let the children write to their father also. If he said he was free during a certain time, the group would wait by the Floo in the library. More than once, the children would become distracted and would run away from the fire. Ginny would watch, her stomach twisting, as Draco's eyes would search for the child who walked away._

_There was a memory of Draco coming home from the States, and she noticed right away something different about him. That night, he came up to their room and looked her in the eyes for the first time in what felt like months_ —I want to be more present, I want to change things, but I can't do it if there are other people in our lives, she has to go, Lovegood and Blaise can't raise our children for us— _and a hot rage swept over her. Now he cared? He wanted to be more present now? Why? What had changed?_

_"Oh, fuck off, Malfoy," Ginny snapped without hesitation. "You want to be more present now—"_

_The words died in her throat when she saw darkness cloud his face. Draco approached her angrily, his teeth bared in a snarl._

_"You're a Malfoy too, in case you've forgotten," he hissed. "Don't you dare speak our name as if it's a curse."_

_Her chest fell and rose in heavy breaths as she fought the urge to hex him. How dare he? How_ dare _he lecture her when he'd been gone for over a week with hardly any word to her!_

_Draco began packing up his things, and her jaw dropped._

_"You're leaving?" she choked out. "You said you'd stay this week! You said—"_

_"Work needs me. Far more, it seems, than you do. I'm sure you'll be fine."_

_She watched as he left the bedroom, the door shutting quietly behind him. And she screamed._

_They orbited around each other, never directly interacting but always aware of the other's presence. If he was home, he'd take the children when she had things to do or she'd drop them off at one of their parents' houses. She'd make sure to leave the room when he entered, and he offered her the same courtesy. And none were the wiser; in public, they'd smile and laugh together and pretend everything was fine when it wasn't._

_Ginny refused to tell Luna to leave, to stop helping, when Draco was gone more often than not._

_She remembered opening the windows of the house and letting the warm breeze filter through, she remembered Lyra dancing around the library, she remembered Draco forgetting to meet her for a Ministry event, she remembered Luna grabbing her hands and telling her that she was pregnant— Ginny stared at her friend in surprise because Luna didn't seem_ happy _about it._

_"Don't tell Blaise," Luna whispered._

_Ginny recalled the distance she felt between her and Draco, she remembered wondering how to change it and if she even wanted too—sometimes their fights would leave her shaking with rage, as his eyes swept over her in a way that reminded her distinctly of the prat she remembered from Hogwarts. It felt like he didn't care anymore. She didn't do as he asked with Luna, and he had given up, and—_

_When Draco left to take the children to Azkaban with his mother, Blaise spoke to her about him_ —he's not sure you care anymore, he says he asked something of you and you ignored it, how are you two going to continue this relationship if you don't listen to each other and support each other— _and she realized she had to visit Lucius again._

_"I think he'll leave me if I don't break off my friendship with Luna. He thinks she's more a part of the children's lives than he is."_

_Lucius shrugged, almost lazily._

_"I'm not sure why there is any confusion to this. He's your husband and he's asking you to make a sacrifice for him." He paused. "Either way, my son wouldn't leave you. You think he's never seen a successful marriage that lacked love?"_

_Did Draco truly not love her anymore? Was that how far they had fallen?_

_The idea of it hit her hard, and it took a moment for her to focus. She knew Lucius saw the vulnerability on her face for he tilted his head, whether in surprise or curiosity she didn't know._

_"What's the point of a marriage if there's no love?" she managed to choke out. "I'm losing him, aren't I?"_

_Lucius sneered._

_"I warned Draco not to marry out of_ love. _Marriage is an agreement, a deal, it's not to be decided on with emotions. And here you sit before me, wondering why your relationship is struggling to survive," he spat. Then he straightened, forcing the rage away. "Either way, as I said only a moment ago, there is no need to worry. Draco would never leave you, Malfoys don't divorce—"_

_"What if I leave him?" Lucius went frighteningly still at her words. "I can't be married to someone who's with me out of obligation and not lov—"_

_"Do as he asked," Lucius hissed. "And let him be the husband he wishes to be."_

_She cried to Luna for hours two days later, telling her she had to pick Draco, that she had to make their marriage work. Easily, she recalled the way Draco's eyes widened when she told him that Luna wouldn't be around anymore so that they could focus on each other. It wasn't long after—a day or a week or an hour—that he reached over and grabbed her hand, more genuine affection in that single action than he had given her in months._

_It was still a dance around each other; it was difficult to get back to the level of authentic intimacy that they had before he asked her to choose him or Luna, before she had questioned him over Cho, before he was working all the time and she was left with the children. But there were times their eyes would catch and it all felt okay. There were times he'd come to bed at a decent hour, and they'd lay beside each other and it seemed_ normal _again. Though they hadn't probably shagged in months and only seemed affectionate in public, it seemed like they were getting somewhere._

_Then, suddenly, Ginny could feel the parchment in her hands, her heart racing and palms sweating; Luna was in the hospital, Rolf was out of town, she had a miscarriage. She wasn't supposed to see Luna, she knew that, and if Draco were to find out, it'd be another betrayal. But he wasn't home, and Luna was all alone, and the boys were with Narcissa so she could take Lyra and no one would know—_

_"Rolf said it would take him a couple days to get back. Is that because of the portkeys in China?"_

_"He needs to finish collecting his findings, and then he'll be back."_

_"Luna… he should be here with you."_

_Luna's large eyes went from Lyra, who was humming and dancing around the hospital room, to Ginny._

_"I don't miss him much. I'm glad that you were able to see me. I'm sure Draco won't be happy about this," she said softly._

_"Don't stress over that. I'm more worried about_ you. _Rolf should be here taking care of you—"_

_For weeks later—or was it months?— Ginny fumed as she thought over Luna's situation. Whenever she thought of Luna alone at St. Mungo's, she instantly thought of Blaise, who would've been more than happy to sit with Luna all day to keep her entertained. She thought of how she couldn't tell one of her dearest friends that the woman he desperately cared for had been alone in a weakened state and how utterly pissed Blaise would be if he ever found out. Ginny couldn't stop wondering if there was some way to help Luna's situation without ruining Draco's belief that Ginny wasn't interacting with her._

_She needed Draco to stop thinking of Luna as a nuisance, as someone who was taking his spot, and help him remember that she was one of their good friends. Ginny knew that she needed her own relationship with Draco to improve in order for that to happen; on one side, when he was home from work, their relationship seemed stable, though certainly more friends than anything else. But, when he was away, their relationship was strained._

_Her mind whirled with ideas._

_"I need a favor."_

_Hermione, who had just finished telling Ginny about the bill she was looking to get passed, frowned at the change of conversation._

_"Of course. Anything. What's going on?"_

_Ginny gnawed on her lip, her eyes darting around the café they were in, before landing on Hermione again. She leaned close and whispered._

_"I need you to get something for me. Before you freak out, know it's not for me, okay? I just… I can't do it without it looking suspicious. But_ you _know so many people that I'm sure it won't be weird if you just ask for a copy…"_

_"You're rambling," Hermione pointed out, eyebrows furrowed. "What is it that you need?"_

_Time passed._

_Lyra set the rug in the library on fire when she didn't get the sweets she wanted, Orion slowly mastered waffle-making in the morning, Gray enjoyed wiggling his loose tooth in front of Ginny until it finally popped out. She caught Draco watching her once or twice, and she couldn't decipher the look on his face, if it was good or bad, and she wondered if they'd ever get back to normal…_

_Christmas was coming, and Ginny was actually excited for the annual Christmas Eve party, if only so all the family was together again. She'd have to go interview the Harpies' players after their practice soon, if she ever wanted to get that article the Daily Prophet wanted out. If she kept putting it off, she'd end up having to find time to do it while Draco was in the States. Merlin, she had told Asma she'd visit Lucius soon too; she'd have to have someone watch the children then—_

_"I'm honestly not sure this is the best course of action. Luna needs to make a decision like this on her own, and for_ you _to bring these to her might be a breach of trust in a way, wouldn't it?"_

_"I'm not going to order her to give him the papers, Hermione," Ginny told her, anxiously glancing at the door. "I just want her to know there are other options than staying with him. You know Luna would never go to the Ministry to look over divorce papers."_

_"And she won't be angry that you'd suggest she leave her husband?"_

_"I'm not sure… but it's better than her being miserable thinking there's no way out." Hermione frantically searched through her bag, and Ginny sighed. When her eyes met the barista's, she flashed her a bright smile. "Hermione, really, my mum is going to be here any minute."_

_"I know, I know—"_

_She stared at the papers in her study for hours, flipping through them over and over again. What if Hermione was right and Luna reacted poorly to her suggesting she divorce Rolf? What if Luna actually did want to stay with him? What would Ginny do if someone ever brought her divorce papers and said she had other options than staying with Draco; if any of her family knew how hard it had been the past few years, they probably would've done it already, actually._

_It didn't matter. Ginny didn't have the option of seeing Luna anyway, so the worst thing that could happen was Luna tossing the papers in the fire and Ginny receiving an angry letter from her. But there was always the chance that Luna would look over the divorce papers and realize there was more for her out there, that she could leave Rolf and raise the boys by herself, that she could start new with someone else._

_She'd owl them to Luna after Christmas._

_"You seem distracted."_

_Ginny blinked and focused on Draco. He was staring at her curiously. She sighed and shrugged._

_"I think it's the holidays coming up," she told him, only half lying._

_There was no way, after all, that she could tell him that her thoughts were caught up on Luna and the miscarriage and how she planned on intervening perhaps too much in her friend's marriage by sending Luna divorce papers that she never asked for._

_"I won't be gone long," Draco responded, his gaze lingering on her. "I'll be able to help keep the children distracted when Bones comes by to decorate with her herd of house-elves."_

_Surprised laughter left her, and Draco's eyebrows rose, one corner of his lips curling into a small smile._

_"I doubt it will be you distracting them as much as the house-elves."_

_"Indeed. At least I offered."_

_Ginny rolled her eyes and reached over to playfully shove him. She stilled when he caught her hand in his own. Draco brought her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. Her skin tingled at the contact and her breath caught in her throat._

_"I think it will be one of our best Christmases yet," he whispered against her skin._

_Warmth settled in her stomach, and Ginny found herself nodding, unable to look away. Tomorrow was their wedding anniversary, and the past few years they had only done dinner out before heading back home and going their separate ways. Maybe tomorrow would be different._

_But when the night passed and the sun rose, when Ginny found Draco in the kitchen in the morning, there was something… different about him. She faltered in the doorway; he looked_ angry. _Were his hands shaking? Ginny stepped in cautiously, ready to question him, but he didn't give her a chance._

_"Draco?"_

_He stormed out of the kitchen._

_That night, when Blaise sat beside her on the dewy grass, she tried to keep herself from breaking down. Every time,_ every single time, _she thought her relationship with Draco was getting better it seemed to fall apart again. Blaise glanced at her from the corner of his eyes._

_"He forgot, then?"_

_"Yes, I suppose."_

_He had forgotten their anniversary, for the first time ever. She had been so sure the night before that they'd do something… something fun and meaningful today, something that showed how much they had grown—_

_The house was dark by the time she returned home. Briefly, she was surprised that Draco's study seemed empty, for he never went to bed before she did if they were fighting. The thought was forgotten as she made her way through the library and to her office._

_And that's where she found him, cold fury painted across his handsome features._

_Her eyes darted around, trying to make sense of why Draco would be in her study. For a moment, her hurt over him having forgotten their anniversary disappeared at the sight of him. Something was wrong._

_"Draco?"_

_"You got divorce papers? Bloody divorce papers?"_

_The words barely made sense as she stared at him. Ginny looked from Draco to what he was pointing at on her desk. She stared in shock. It was… it was Luna's papers._

_And there was a signature on them, the fresh ink reflecting in the firelight._

_Ginny didn't realize she had walked to her desk until her thighs hit the edge of it, stopping her. A rushing sound filled her ears. Draco, he had... he had found the divorce papers she had begged Hermione for, the divorce papers that were to help Luna get on with her life, and he had—he had signed them._

Draco Lucius Malfoy

17/12/2017

_The sound in her ears grew louder, and she squeezed her eyes shut. But his signature seemed burned into her eyelids. With a shuddering breath, Ginny opened her eyes and looked at Draco. He was waiting for her response, his chest rising and falling with restrained breaths. She searched his face, trying to find something to help calm the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her._

_But all she saw was his utter outrage about the papers. The papers that he had signed._

_The ache deep inside of her intensified._

_"Oh," she breathed, pressing a hand against her chest. "Don't—don't start this."_

_The words felt odd leaving her mouth. They were angry and_ wounded _and, somehow, strong; they didn't tremble as her hands did._

_"Are you serious?" he hissed._

Draco signed the divorce papers.

_"Do you know how mad this is?"_

_Her gaze drifted back to her desk as his voice grew louder, sharper._

_"You can't pretend that these papers aren't here, that they aren't real!" Draco shouted, slamming his hand against the wall._

_Ginny jumped in surprise, her eyes meeting his once more. Her mind raced—she should tell him the truth, that the papers were for Luna, they weren't for him, but he had signed his name, he hadn't bothered to speak to her about finding the papers, how dare he, how_ dare _he; he had kissed her just last night as if they were okay again and were on the right track, and then he so easily threw it all away—and she felt herself react without thinking._

_"Don't pretend you care now!" she cried out, leaning forward to grab the papers. "You're fooling no one!"_

_As she lifted the papers so that Draco could see where the ink had dried, Ginny marveled over the fact that the sheets were so light in her hands. Something that was causing her so much pain, that reopened a wound between her and her husband, was hardly anything real at all. Just parchment._

_"Don't act the victim, Ginny, you're the one who got the papers! You're the one who wanted this! Were you going to wait till before or after Christmas to deliver these to me?"_

_She could hear the hurt in his voice, could see his hands shook as hers did, but she found it hard to concentrate on that. Why had he even been in her study? Had she left the papers out or had he gone searching for them? Ginny tried to think, to remember, but anger and despair rose in her so quickly she could hardly think._

_"You signed them," was all she could manage, her grip on the papers tightening._

_"Of course, I did," he spat._

_How unconcerned he seemed over the ending of their marriage._

_"What—what about the children? What about—" Ginny swallowed the word_ us _and shook her head. "Do you not even care about—about them—"_

_Draco's eyes narrowed._

_"Is that part of your plan? To make it seem like I don't care about my children anymore?"_

_Ginny took several steps back—the study was too small, she felt like she was suffocating, she needed more air—until she was in the library. A part of her plan? He thought she had planned this? Draco truly thought so little of her? What had the last year meant? Hadn't she been trying? Had he not seen it?_

_Draco followed her, and she watched him, trying to figure out what to say, what to do. The silence stretched on, much tenser, almost unbearable, and Ginny tried to breathe. She couldn't hold his stare, felt herself breaking under the weight of his accusations, and she looked away. Normally, the familiarity of the library — every chair, every book, the shelf where Orion had hurt his head a few months ago, the window that Gray opened no matter the season — calmed her._

_But not now._

_Her grip on the papers loosened and she flung them at him as though burned. The parchment pieces fluttered to the ground, landing in a circle around his feet, yet Draco made no move to pick them up._

_"Stay, then," she ordered, though her voice cracked._

_Ginny bit on her lip to keep it from trembling._

_"Prove to me that you care. Don't go to the States. Stay here… with me."_

_She hated how desperate she sounded, but Ginny couldn't help it. If he left — if he walked away after signing the papers — how could they fix it?_

_The tension was palpable between them, leaving her thoughts to run rampant._

_Perhaps it was inevitable. Maybe Ginny had been prolonging the situation, turning her cheek from the challenges they faced, pretending nothing was wrong. It could be for the best. Yes, it made sense, but it still felt so wrong, because she was supposed to be happy with Draco forever. The children… What were they supposed to tell the children if they didn't find a solution? Was there a chance, even now, that the children witnessed their parents' argument even now?_

_The thought of their kids overhearing their conversation made her stomach twist, and she glanced uneasily towards the dark corridor outside the library._

_"The world doesn't revolve around you and what you deem important, Ginny," Draco drawled, bringing her attention back to him. "I cannot stay."_

_When he left the next morning, pressing a long kiss to each of the children's foreheads as he said goodbye, she watched silently, barely able to process the moment. He was leaving. She had asked him to stay and he was leaving. This was his answer._

_"Give Mummy a kiss goodbye too!" Lyra cried out as Draco headed to the front door._

_He froze, and Ginny became alert again. She could see the tension in his body as he turned, and she wondered if he'd actually come to her. But the expectations of his children were enough to make him fight his instinct, and he stalked towards her, eyes cold and dead. Ginny distantly thought his gaze seemed as empty as it had when they first met again at Split Potion all those years ago. Then, before she could stop what was about to happen, Draco leaned down and brushed his lips across her cheek._

_The smell of mint overwhelmed her, and she had to press a hand to her mouth so the children didn't see how quickly her mask broke. And then he was gone._

_She hardly realized what she was doing as she went through her day: take the children to the Burrow; don't think about Draco; have lunch with her mum, smile, pretend everything was okay; head out to the Harpies' practice; interview the Keeper, Roe; get on the broom; don't think about Draco, don't think about Draco—_

_Draco had signed the divorce papers and was going to leave her._

_Someone screamed and Ginny looked up, dropping the parchment that she had barely written on. A Bludger sped towards her and she went to move but she wasn't fast enough._

_A flash of white hot pain. Then everything went black._

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Her eyes jerked open and she pushed back with a cry, slamming into something behind her. Ginny looked around frantically—the Bludger, where was the Bludger—but someone was crowding her view. She pushed hard at the person, but they didn't move.

"Breathe, breathe, it's me, Gin, it's me."

Ginny looked up, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and focused on the face before her.

Draco.

"Are you okay?"

He squatted down beside her, reaching out to her automatically. When his fingers brushed her arm, she flinched away from him.

Because she remembered. Merlin, she _remembered_.

Draco stared at her, his hand dropping to his side. His eyes traced over her face, taking her in. Then he let out a long breath and leaned back on his heels, sitting on the floor. A sudden wave of exhaustion made his body sag. Ginny tried to steady her breathing as she stared at him, her mind racing to catch up with the situation, because she wasn't on the Quidditch field anymore, she was at the Burrow with _Draco_.

He ran his hands over his face before meeting her gaze.

"Welcome back, Ginny."

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek! How much do you guys hate me?! Sorry for the cliffhanger but this chapter was so long (37 pages) and I honestly had to cut it off somewhere. As always, thank you to Jess for reading over this chapter and editing out all the mistakes for me. I don't know where I'd be without you. And, as always, thank you guys for so patiently waiting for me to post this chapter!
> 
> Do you believe me when I say this was the hardest chapter I think I've ever written? There was so much buildup and so many questions that needed to be answered that it took me ages to get it just right. But I hope it was worth it. I also stated at the beginning of the chapter about some changes in the previous chapters to make sure this timeline worked. If there's any confusion, please reference the note at the top. If you have any more questions, I will certainly answer!
> 
> So, yes, thank you for waiting. Please review! And I will try my best to not take as long to get the next chapter out! Sorry for the cliffhanger! And please tell me what you think—I honestly can't wait!


	15. Day Eight, part five

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

It was as though the distinct smell that always lingered in the Quidditch pitch was in the air now: dirt, freshly cut grass, sweat, broom polish. But it wasn’t. No, that smell was simply fresh in her mind. 

Draco continued staring at her, reading her as he did so well, while she collected herself. Finding it hard to hold his eyes, Ginny looked away.

She flexed her hands, which only moments ago had been gripping hard onto her broom handle… but, no, that wasn’t right. Moments ago, she had been asleep against the toilet. The flash of pain, so intense in the instant she felt it, hadn’t happened seconds ago—that had been over a week ago.

Ginny pressed her hand to her forehead, feeling for the spot where the Bludger had hit, but it was no longer sensitive. 

As her breathing began to stabilize, as she realized that everything that had seemed to just happen was really only a memory, Ginny’s eyes slowly found Draco once more. He looked positively exhausted, as worn through as the days when he fought to get the Dementors out of Azkaban, but this time she knew it had nothing to do with the creatures that sucked the happiness out of a person.

Right now, his tiredness was completely her fault. So maybe he was dealing with something that made him incredibly unhappy. Ginny remembered the cold, detached look in his eyes when Lyra told him to give Ginny a kiss before his trip. She thought of how he told her he wouldn’t stay, how easy it had been for him to make that decision and stick with it…

Swallowing hard, Ginny wiped her sweaty palms on her pants before letting out a long breath. She wanted to say something, anything that would break the strained silence between them. But when Draco heard her exhale, he stiffened. It made whatever words on her tongue vanish and they continued to stare at each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Truthfully, she couldn’t begin to imagine what Draco was thinking as he looked at her. Her own mind seemed like mush, everything muddled together so well that it was hard for her to distinguish one emotion from the next. Despair, anger, and fear were prevalent as she looked at her husband, remembering that he hadn’t wanted to stay, hadn’t wanted to make things work. But… but there was more than just that.

She had the urge to crawl over to him and collapse into his arms, to listen to his heartbeat and let it reassure her that the past week hadn’t meant nothing, to say something, anything, that would wipe away the uncertainty that colored his face. 

Ginny closed her eyes, breaking the staring contest between them, and leaned her head back against the wall. With the darkness provided to her, she was able to properly zone in on her body. Her heartbeat had returned to normal, her palms were no longer drenched, her breathing was steady. Fatigue nipped at her, reminding her of how long the past few days had been, but adrenaline raced through her system, surely a result of her memories coming back to her.

_“Breathe, breathe, it’s me, Gin, it’s me.”_

She inhaled deeply.

Despite the uncomfortable silence that lingered in the room, Ginny felt… she felt as though a weight had been taken off her shoulders, a weight that she hadn’t even realized was there the past week. For a moment, she wondered why. Things with Draco weren’t settled yet, so it wasn’t that. Her body ached horribly; if she were alone, she’d probably allow a few tired tears to fall before curling into a ball and falling back to sleep, so it wasn’t that. 

Ginny thought of Orion, Gray, and Lyra, at home on Christmas morning without either of their parents there. She recalled the way Orion always took time to divide everyone’s presents up, because not long ago he was the only child who could read and he didn’t want Gray or Lyra to be upset about not knowing which gifts were theirs. Gray always drummed his fingers together in excitement as he waited for Orion to finish separating the gifts. Lyra would take turns running to and from Draco and Ginny, laughing and pressing kisses to their faces.

_That was it._

She could remember her children. The heaviness, which was no longer present, had been from not remembering her children.

An almost hysterical giggle escaped her and she slapped her hand over her mouth to stop it from being heard. But Draco’s breathing paused, and she knew she hadn’t succeeded. 

She found it hard to care. 

Because, Merlin, everything about Orion, Gray, and Lyra was _right there_. It was so easy now to bring forth memories of them, of their likes and dislikes, of the first time they spoke or the first time they walked, of their favorite toys when they were babies. They were each so unique and so lovely, and, while she had known that the past week, now she knew _why_. 

It was common knowledge that Lyra hated strawberries but always asked for them anyway, only to give them to her older brothers. And it came to her easily, the memory of Ron’s birthday last year when Gray had learned a bawdy song, word for word, because Ron, Angelina, and George had drunkenly begun singing it to each other—not realizing the young boy was listening nearby. The memory of Orion falling off his broom and chipping his tooth, the pride that overwhelmed her when he started smiling to show it off instead of crying, it was there in her head.

Her heart squeezed and she opened her eyes, determination filling her. She wanted to see her children, she wanted to hold them close and promise to never leave again, she wanted to watch their eyes light up as they opened their presents, content that their parents were back home with them.

“I want to go home.”

Draco jolted at her words, his eyebrows lifting high and his lips parting. Ginny struggled to stand and she saw Draco lurch forward, his hand reaching out to help her, but then her eyes met his and he stopped. This time, her heart squeezing had nothing to do with her children.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stop herself from trying to sort her thoughts out about Draco. The confusion she had felt over the last week as she lived with a man she hardly knew was no longer present; or, rather, it was but was now buried deep under the other memories of him. Merlin, she had been such an idiot the past week. She hadn’t… she hadn’t pushed Draco at all for answers when she lost her memory, she hadn’t tried to question him about why he signed the divorce papers, she hadn’t reacted at all to his hot and cold attitude towards her.

Instead, she preferred to remain in a bubble of ignorance, allowing him to play her like a puppet.

But, finally, Ginny knew everything; she knew the papers had been for Luna, she knew that Draco had signed them, she knew why her family and friends had thought they were perfectly happy. Everything made sense again. 

…Or did it?

Emotions twisted in her gut, tugging and pulling, making her feel increasingly uncomfortable. The hopelessness over Draco leaving her was there, along with her rage over him abandoning their marriage and her sense of loss at his futile attempts to make their relationship work and… and the relief she felt when he agreed to help her when she returned from Harry’s, the rush of affection she felt when he spent time with her at the Ministry ball, the realization that she loved him and wanted to make things right, that there was something between them still, that he had seemed desperate to fix things too—

“Ginny?” he called, breaking the silence.

She blinked then pushed herself to her feet completely. The world seemed to tilt and she put her hand against the wall to steady herself. It helped; she no longer felt like she was standing on uneven ground.   
Draco stood also, warily eyeing her. Ginny couldn’t help but study him back. There was something different about him and she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The dark bags under his eyes, the strands of hair that uncharacteristically stood on end, the pinch of his lips, the odd flush in his cheeks… She had seen Draco exhausted before, many times, and she could tell now that he was running on adrenaline to stay alert the same as she was. But there was still something out of place that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Have Harry and Pansy left?” she asked, unsure of what to say.

“Yes. They left when I got here.”

She nodded and gnawed on her bottom lip. When he didn’t say anything more, Ginny folded her arms across her chest.

“I want to go home,” she repeated, wondering if she had even said it out loud before or if she had imagined it.

With how tired she was, she wouldn’t be surprised if she had only thought she’d spoken.

“I know,” he replied softly. “Gin—”

“Stop.”

At her command, she saw his right hand twitch at his side.

“You’ve remembered everything, then.”

It wasn’t a question, more of an observation. That odd desire to laugh came over her again and she pressed her lips together to stop it. Yes, yes, she did, _finally_. Instead of giggling, she shrugged.

“You already knew that.”

Draco made a sound in his throat; it sounded almost like a whine, something an animal in pain would release. Startled by it, Ginny stepped forward before stopping herself. She wasn’t sure… she wasn’t sure comforting Draco was the right thing to do. One part of her desperately wanted to ask if he was alright but the realistic part of her, the part he had walked out on, wasn’t sure how to respond. 

It clicked then, what was different about him. He looked afraid. Ginny wasn’t sure the fear was necessarily for her, either. She had a strange feeling that Draco was more worried over her thoughts, her feelings towards him now that she remembered. 

Clearly, she was no longer the woman he had left at the Burrow only hours ago.

Nonetheless, Ginny took another hesitant step towards him. The world didn’t sway and she felt steady on her feet; relief hit her. But Draco ran a hand through his hair, collecting himself, and his face cleared of distress. Her decision to go to him suddenly seemed silly. She took a few steps back, returning to their original distance. Draco didn’t seem to notice, or, if he did, he made sure not to visibly react to it.

“We should go back to St. Mungo’s,” he told her. “Just to make sure everything is okay.”

There was no way that was happening. The last place she wanted to be was St. Mungo’s, not for the third time in a week, not on Christmas day, not when her children needed her.

She hated it there. 

Tilting her chin up, she shook her head.

“I’m not going back there.”

“Ginny—”

“ _Stop_ saying that.”

Disbelief contorted Draco’s face before a familiar shade of anger took over. Ginny knew how to deal with Draco’s rage, and she felt herself readying for a fight. If he was angry, she could be angry too. It was much easier to deal with than… than the unknown territory they were currently in. 

“What should I call you then, if not your name?” Draco snapped.

It wasn’t him addressing her as Ginny that bothered her. It was how he was saying it. There was a softness to the way her name fell from his lips—she hadn’t heard him call for her like that in so long. Yet, that wasn’t true, was it? When he had left her in her old bedroom, telling her not to be afraid, leaving at her command when he had initially refused to, Draco had spoken her name the same way.

It was messing with her head, the random memories of how _different_ he had been the past week, making it hard for her to figure out where she stood with her husband. If she could simply continue to focus on her need to see her children, then she’d make it out of here in one piece. But if she let Draco get into her head any more, if she let herself believe he was truly worried, if she let her need to _talk_ to him take over, who knew how it would all end.

It was as though Draco could read her mind; the irritation seemed to drain from him, and he let out a sigh.

“We need to talk,” he told her, his eyes meeting her own. 

She shook her head as he spoke. Draco leaned towards her, the movement so subtle that she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been watching him so intently.

“Gin—” He stopped himself, frustrated. “We can’t go home before we talk this out. We need to talk about the last week.”

“Why?” 

The question was much harsher than she intended, and, for a moment, his conviction seemed to falter. Ginny latched onto it.

“The last thing I want to do right now is _talk_. I—I want to go see the children, I want to be with them, I need to get out of this bloody house—”

“You can’t honestly want to head home without speaking about this,” Draco cut in.

He seemed completely composed once again. It infuriated her.

“Why bother talking about the last week?” she asked, her voice catching. “You signed the papers. You left.”

Ginny hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant to actually speak the words, but they left her lips without her permission. It was clear that Draco hadn’t expected her to bring it up so quickly either, for he took a step away from her, as if she had physically struck him. She gripped her arms tighter, hating the way her stomach seemed to roll once she put the reality of their situation out between them. 

This wasn’t fair. Why did she have to feel so miserable when Draco was the one who made the choice for them? Why couldn’t he feel absolutely wrecked and she feel fine? He had picked up the quill, he had signed his name, he hadn’t talked to her about it until the deed was already done, he had waited for her in the dark of her office, teeth bared, ready to strike her where it hurt, when she was already vulnerable— 

But, no, that wasn’t right, was it? Not completely… Because she had fed his fears of wanting the divorce, had never told him that the papers weren’t for them, never tried to assure him that it was all a mistake, never asked him to just _listen_ to her. 

Ginny had never told him the truth.

As her thoughts whirled, she started towards the exit. Draco seemed lost at her accusation, his face cleared of emotions, all his previous heat gone. She stepped around him, desperate to get out of the confines of the bathroom. His cloak brushed her arm as she dodged past him, and she held her breath, half afraid of inhaling his scent. 

Once out in the hallway, she heaved in a gulp of air, glad for the extra space. Though, of course, the Burrow always seemed small and cramped. Even now, there were boxes and random articles of clothing that clogged the hallway. The mess surrounding her comforted her, as it always did when she spent time at her childhood home. 

Taking a moment, Ginny looked around. It was easy to spot which items were things her nieces and nephews had dropped when rushing to greet their parents, items that Molly and Arthur hadn’t had time to pick up, and which items had been left there over longer periods of time, like old gardening gloves and several spell books. She thought of the random sleepovers her children had here when Draco or Ginny had work obligations or, when they were still happy, wanted some alone time together. 

The thought of the children pushed her back into motion.

Ginny headed to her old bedroom. She wanted to go home but would need her wand, which she likely dropped while running to the bathroom. Or had she even brought it to St. Mungo’s? The rush from her home to the hospital was a blur—the feel of Draco’s shirt as she clutched at it was the only thing she could really remember—so she wasn’t sure she had even brought her wand.

The idea of not having it made her feel oddly defenseless. 

She lifted the covers on her aged, disheveled bed with no luck. It wasn’t on the desk or the bedside table. As she was about to drop to her knees to look under the bed, a voice interrupted her.

“Looking for this?”

Ginny turned around, her eyes narrowing when she saw Draco holding up her wand.

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

“Afraid I’ll hex you?” she challenged, clutching at her previous anger from the bathroom.

Draco let out a sound of amusement but it seemed forced. 

“I’m afraid you’ll leave.”

She straightened, cheeks flushing.

“Like you did?” Ginny retorted.

Draco laughed, but it was sharp and cutting. He tossed her the wand, and she caught it easily.

“You had Granger get divorce papers for us. I hardly think that puts me in the wrong here.”

Ginny shook her head, trying to keep the furious words inside her. She didn’t want to do this now. If she could just ignore him long enough…

Shoving her wand into her waistband, she turned her back on him, looking for a pair of shoes to slip on. He continued speaking.

“Did you expect me to stay and play house with you when you wanted—”

Her spine tingled as she spun around, emotions overriding her decision to ignore him and return to the children.

“They weren’t for you! The papers weren’t for us!”

She hadn’t realized she had screamed the truth at Draco till she heard a quiet ringing in her ears. Skepticism clouded Draco’s face as he waited for her to say more; he half looked as though he was waiting for her to laugh and say she was joking. When she did nothing, he cocked his head to the side.

“You often keep the Ministry’s official divorce papers in your study then?” he drawled. 

She inhaled sharply.

“They were for Luna.”

As often happened whenever Luna was mentioned, Draco’s demeanor changed. He hardened, his eyes growing darker, his lip curling.

“I see. You’ve been talking to Lovegood?”

“ _That’s_ what you take from what I said?” Ginny growled, throwing her hands into the air. 

Draco’s fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. His temper was rising, she knew, and soon enough he’d storm out. The fight would be over, at least for the moment, and she’d be able to go home. They’d pretend everything was fine in front of the kids, his mother, and Blaise, and then later, maybe tomorrow or in a few days or a week, it would be brought up again—

“Why would the papers be for Lovegood?”

She focused on him, not realizing she had already been planning her escape until he forced her attention back on him. Ginny blinked, surprised to see that Draco was calm and collected once more. The rage that she had been sure was lurking beneath his surface only a second ago was, for the moment, under control. His voice was strained, as though he hated himself for even asking the question, but it wasn’t rude or cutting.

Her brows lifted.

“I… I thought she needed them.”

“Why?”

She shook her head, remaining silent. Bringing up Luna was never a good idea, and telling Luna’s business felt wrong. A tiny voice inside her head begged the question, though… would Luna care if Ginny told her secrets in order to help Ginny’s marriage with Draco? 

Something whispered, _never_ , Luna would never care, she’d only want Ginny to be happy. And, honestly, Luna had only asked Ginny not to speak to Blaise about it; she had never mentioned not telling Draco. The idea of telling Draco that she had gone to St. Mungo’s had seemed so insane at the time that Ginny hadn’t even thought of not hiding it from him. But Luna must’ve thought Ginny would be truthful, for she expressed her concern over the fallout from the visit.

How had Ginny not realized that then? 

“ _Why_ , Ginny? Why would you get divorce papers for Lovegood? Why would you keep them in your study? It doesn’t make sense, and you opting not to answer isn’t going to make it go away.”

It felt like a dirty secret—visiting Luna at St. Mungo’s, Ginny’s fury over Rolf never showing up when Luna seemed to not care at all, Ginny’s decision to get the divorce papers for Luna even though she hadn’t asked. The idea of telling Draco, of admitting where everything potentially went wrong, frightened her. Because, Merlin, had she created this secret herself? If Luna hadn’t cared about Draco knowing, then hadn’t Ginny dug her own grave?

He blinked in astonishment when she remained silent, unaware of the conflict in her head.

“You weren’t supposed to be in contact with her,” he hissed. “You promised me. And now you’re trying to tell me you have been, that you’re corresponding with her, that you’ve been planning her fucking divorce. You’re trying to pin this on Lovegood, but you won’t even give me a believable enough excuse as to why she’d want a divorce. Do you think I’m a fool? Do you think I’d fall for any idiotic thing you threw at me?”

The truth poured out of her; she didn’t even realize she had made the decision to tell him until she was already speaking.

“She had a miscarriage. She had a miscarriage, and Rolf—he wrote to me asking me to go see her. I hadn’t been talking to her, I _hadn’t_ , but—but Rolf didn’t bother to leave his excursion to see his wife. I couldn’t leave her there alone. I _wouldn’t_.”

She spoke quickly, a hot flush creeping up her chest and staining her face as her hands flailed. Where she was animated, Draco was still. When Ginny finished speaking, he shook his head warily. Her words hung between them. Was he debating whether or not she was telling the truth? The idea that he thought she was lying, that he could believe she’d say something so horrible to try to excuse her seeing Luna, made her stare at him hard, eyes blazing. 

Because if he truly thought she’d lie about that, that she’d put that horrible experience on anyone to save her own skin, he didn’t know her at all—

“Of course not,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

Tiredly, he lifted his hand and rubbed at his eyes. He believed her. The realization had her gaping at him in surprise. He wasn’t… he wasn’t even trying to fight her on it. Draco didn’t bother asking for more proof. With a jolt, Ginny realized she had never had an argument with Draco where they both actively listened to each other, where he believed what she said without becoming defensive, where she spoke her mind without worry of him running off.

“You… you believe me?” 

She was almost afraid of questioning it. 

A smirk twisted on his lips.

“You’d never leave a friend in need. You are a Weasley, after all.”

For a moment, it almost seemed like they were back to just the other day, when they could joke and laugh together over anything. It felt natural as her lips twitched into a small grin also. 

“I had to show her there were other options. I mean, even you came back when I—”

She stopped speaking abruptly, her throat closing up. Draco had come back from the States, only held back from rushing home right away by the laws of the country, to make sure Ginny was okay after her accident. He had come to her worn out, concerned, even when he had thought she wanted a divorce. Even after they had fought and she hadn’t told him the truth about the papers.   
Even after she had accused him of not caring.

His hands clenched then unclenched at his side. Ginny could hear her heart racing; it seemed like it was echoing in her ears.

_“Even_ you _came back_ …”

Draco spoke, distracting her. 

“You went to Granger to get papers from the Ministry?”

“Yeah. I wanted to owl them to Luna after Christmas.”

“When you found them, after your accident…” 

He trailed off.

Ginny shrugged.

“I thought you wanted a divorce. Then I remembered Hermione giving them to me, and I thought that it had been me… I only just remembered.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that?” Draco’s voice cracked. “When we were fighting, when I confronted you, you didn’t tell me they were for Lovegood. You gave me no reason to believe you didn’t want this.”

Again, she was struck by the realization that none of this might have happened if she had simply told him the truth. When Draco had confronted her, she might’ve been able to make him see that she didn’t want to break apart their family. Ginny had to remind herself, though, that their relationship before the papers was not as smooth as it had been the past week. He might not have believed her. He might’ve been distrustful of her words, he might’ve only heard that she had gone to see Luna, he might’ve not listened to her.

Or, as he just had, he might’ve completely believed her. 

But it was already done with. She had chosen not to tell him the truth. He had chosen to not talk to her about his discovery in her study before acting. 

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” he persisted.

“Because you had already signed the papers.”

And, honestly, wasn’t that what mattered most now? 

They stared at each other. Draco’s lips were pressed tightly together as if he was refraining from saying something harsh. After a long moment, where Draco remained frozen, she made the choice for them and started to walk by him.

“It’s time to go home,” Ginny said.

She jumped in surprise when he reached out, grabbing her arm and keeping her from passing him. His grip wasn’t tight, and she knew if she tried to shake him off she could. But she found herself waiting. 

When it was clear Draco was struggling to decide what to say, the silence between them stretching on, she sighed.

“Draco…”

His grip on her arm tightened slightly and he stepped closer to her. 

“We can’t leave it like this,” he finally managed, though it seemed almost painful for him to get the words out.

She frowned.

“The kids are at home—”

“The kids, I’m sure, would rather us work this out than come home _broken_ ,” Draco interrupted, his voice pitching high on the last word. 

Ginny stilled, any other excuse she had for leaving vanishing. Draco took another long minute, battling his emotions. He gritted his teeth together. 

Where he touched her, her skin seemed to burn. 

“We can’t leave it like this. I refuse,” he told her. “I refuse.”

“There’s nothing left to say!” she snapped, though there was no heat behind her words. “This will end up to just be some horrible, bloody mess of a fight if we—if we keep trying to draw it out and force it.”

“Then let it be a fight! I didn’t know how to fight for you then, but I’ll try now!”

She blinked, taken aback.

“What?”

He released his hold on her to run both his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands before releasing them. Draco looked absolutely mad, with his pale skin and messy hair and wide, tired eyes. Everything about him in this moment was so completely opposite the man she had married that it kept her frozen in place.

“I didn’t know how to fight for you,” he repeated. “I didn’t—I didn’t know! When we first met, I knew how to do _this_.” She knew he was referring to them, their relationship, her, without him having to further explain. “You hated me and I knew perfectly well how to react to that. Then we were friends and—and somehow, I managed that also. When we first became—became—”

He stammered over his words, a reaction Ginny had never managed to inspire in him before. 

“I never had to _work_ at this before, not with you. Even after Hogwarts, when I met you again, it all clicked and was right and good and you had all the answers for me, every solution to fix my despicable situation. _You_ were good and right. You told me to work with Potter and I did. You got me back into the public eye. You helped me become friends with people who had wanted me dead or, worse, tossed into Azkaban before I got my hands on it. You… you were a fucking hero. And who was I? No one. I was no one.”

His words washed over her and she almost drowned in them. Without permission, a vision of Lucius sneering at her from his cell came to her, similar words spewing from his lips.

_“But I knew Draco would pick a suitable wife, someone to help his status. And he had picked the absolute best woman, hadn’t he?_ ”

“Your father was right, then? Everything he said to me was right?” 

Draco’s expression darkened.

“Right about what?” he hissed.

Ginny shivered.

“You married me because I was a good choice for your public image!” 

But even as she said it, it sounded wrong. Why was she letting Lucius’ words enter a conversation with Draco? She never had before; she had only ever let what Lucius say steer her in the right direction with Draco. And she _knew_ Draco had loved her, once upon a time. Their relationship hadn’t been for show, she knew that. 

Something poked at her but she couldn’t focus on it, instead distracted by the way Draco’s face flushed and his eyes sparkled furiously—but the rage wasn’t directed towards her, it was towards his father, and he was letting her see that, whether he meant to or not.

“No. _No_ , that’s not what I’m saying, you can’t honestly believe—” His hands flailed for a moment, unsure whether to clench them into fists or reach for her or grab at his hair. He ended up rubbing his face roughly, taking a second to collect himself. Then Draco dropped his hands and focused on her. “When we met, it was easy. It wasn’t a challenge for me to—to _love_ you. You saved me. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t easy anymore. I was working, and you were just… different and irritated at me for something I thought we both wanted. I didn’t understand how to fight for you. Every time I tried, it felt like I was doing the wrong thing. I assumed you weren’t happy, that you didn’t want me anymore. I… was weak.”

Draco’s confession left _her_ feeling weak. 

“I just wanted you home.”

His shoulders sagged. 

“I needed to keep working. For the children, for you, for our family—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted sharply. “Don’t you dare say you worked for _me_. I never needed that, any of it. After Azkaban, I would’ve been fine with you remaining a security advisor for the prison. You wanted the other projects.”

“You let me take them.”

“I thought I could handle it! It was obvious how much they meant to you. I hadn’t realized they meant more to you than _I_ meant to you, though!”

“That’s hardly fair,” Draco snapped. “You weren’t working. What were we supposed to do, live in the slums?”

Laughter spilled from her, but it was shrill.

“Merlin, Draco, this is exactly what we’ve always been fighting over. It’s like some bloody vicious cycle that we can’t get out of. You work because you care about the family, but when I ask you to be more present, to be home more, to _prove_ you care, you won’t! You won’t! The life I wanted was with you! I grew up with eight other people crammed into this house, for fuck’s sake,” she shouted, gesturing around her bedroom. “Being poor is not something I’m afraid of. It never was. It’s something _you’re_ afraid of.”

The flush in his cheeks deepened.

“I refuse to let you or the children suffer because of my failings,” he seethed. 

“You’d rather a loveless marriage with money to spend rather than a happy one where we struggle to make ends meet?”

Again, it felt like she was speaking Lucius’ words. And, again, something prodded at her. Draco went to speak, a retort ready on his lips, but realization struck her like lightning. 

_“Your father was right, then? Everything he said to me was right?”_

_“Right about what?”_

Draco had never questioned her on why she would be speaking to Lucius or when they’d ever had a chance to speak. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. 

“You’ve known.”

Draco didn’t say whatever was on his mind, thrown off by her words. She heard his harsh breathing, could feel his confusion even though she couldn’t see him. Slowly, Ginny opened her eyes and peered at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve known. You’ve known that I’ve been visiting your father.”

His stare hardened.

“Of course, I knew,” Draco spat. “You think Azkaban’s security system, that I worked on for years, was so poorly designed that you could sneak in without me knowing? You really believe me that foolish? That my work, the design that fucking Granger checked over and over again, which was approved and tested by the Ministry, was so lacking that you could enter and leave Azkaban while I remained in the dark?”

“You didn’t say anything,” Ginny breathed. “After all these years, you just—you just let me do it.”

Uncertainty clouded his features, and, when he spoke, it was slowly.

“I wasn’t sure what you were trying to accomplish. I had to figure out what it all meant. Do you realize what would’ve happened to that receptionist had I actually cared? An attempted security breach of that magnitude—”

“She told you?”

Draco sneered, his hesitancy gone.

“I monitor every person who even speaks my father’s name in that building. You think I wouldn’t be sure to know who visited him?”

“Asma—”

“—I’m sure was a worthy member of Dumbledore’s Army, but she certainly lacks the bravery you possess. I confronted her about it after your first visit. She’s written to me after every one since.”

Guilt and shock hit her hard. Draco had known since her first visit. All this time she thought she was being sneaky, that she was helping her marriage with Draco by visiting his father without him knowing… and Draco had been well informed. Had he listened in on her conversations with his father? Did he know by heart how pathetic she sounded going to a man she hated for help? 

Ginny thought of the searching looks Draco would give her; she had never connected them with having begun after she started visiting his father, yet, now, she was sure that was the case. 

“I’m sorry.”

The apology left her easily, as if it had simply been waiting permission to be spoken. Ginny hated going to see Lucius. Or, rather, she hated doing it behind her husband’s back. After all these years, she was almost… relieved that it was no longer something she had to hide from him.

Draco didn’t take his eyes off of her, his lips still curled furiously.

Her relief, however, did nothing to halt his wrath.

“What for, darling? For fighting me every time I tried to take the children to see my father, despite the fact that you were visiting him with little concern? Or, perhaps, for the insult over your attempt at sneaking through my security system? How about for all the times you guilted me over my father’s failed attempt at murdering you—those nights, did you think about what gossip you’d share with him on your next visit?”

Ginny wished there was some sort of anger she could cling to in order to fight against what he said. But there was none. Nothing Draco said was wrong. It was all the truth, in some horrible, warped way. She had continued to fight with him over the children visiting Lucius, she had reminded him often of his father’s dark past, she had thought she managed to trick Draco, despite knowing how hard he had worked on the security system.

He was right.

“I—”

Draco’s eyebrows rose when she failed to finish her sentence. He held his palms out in front of him.

“Yes?”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Not good enough,” he said through clenched teeth. “Why were you visiting him?”

“Because I fucked up!” Ginny cried out, tears wetting her eyes. “When I accused you of sleeping with Chang, you—hell, Draco, you would barely look at me. _Months_ , you would barely look at me for months, and I didn’t know what to do. My apologies did nothing, my excuses, my attempts at healing us, they didn’t help at all.”

He bared his teeth and she knew what he was thinking— _your apologies do nothing now._

She breathed in through her nose, trying to collect herself.

“I thought if I visited Lucius, if I somehow could see him and not want to gouge his eyeballs out, then you’d see that I was trying to fix things between us. We could’ve visited him as a family, with the children. You knew how much I hated him, and I had hoped you’d see that I wanted me and you to work, that if I made an effort with him I was making one with you too.”

“Yet you never decided to tag along on any visits after.”

“Because… because he gave me a better idea,” she whispered, almost too afraid to tell Draco the truth.

His eyes narrowed.

“Is that so? What ideas, pray tell, did my father fill your head with?”

His long fingers were drumming the side of his leg, the first thing Ginny noticed, for she couldn’t keep eye contact.

“How to be a better Malfoy.” Draco’s fingers stilled. “I thought that would help fix us somehow. He would tell me how to be a—a proper wife to you, how to help the Malfoy name. And I knew that’s what you cared about most.”

“That’s not what I cared about most.”

His voice sounded choked and she looked up, surprised. Their eyes locked. She wondered, briefly, if the truth of why she went to Azkaban made any difference towards his harsh feelings about the situation. All those years, Draco had known and never said anything. Ginny couldn’t imagine how much hatred and resentment for being kept in the dark had built up inside of her husband.

But she had gone for a reason. 

“Well, it seemed like it,” Ginny said. “You never wanted to end up in the slums.”

“Don’t divert from what we’re talking about,” he fumed; the moment had passed and his anger was back. “You went to him when I wouldn’t speak to you; that has nothing to do with me trying to keep our family above water.”

“Doesn’t it? You were working all the time and you hired Chang—” The woman’s name still tasted bitter in her mouth. “—and she was supposed to relieve your workload! But you were still never home. I felt like you were avoiding me and the children purposely. It drove me _insane_. She’s, just, bloody beautif—”

“—Gin—”

“—Let me finish! I never should have said that you were having an affair, especially not in front of her, but I couldn’t seem to get your attention otherwise. I couldn’t express my feelings any other way. After, I realized my mistake. You—you shut down, you stopped talking to me, you completely cut me out of your life even though I was still in it, and—and it drove me to your father, in the hopes that seeing him would prove _something_ to you. I was sick to my stomach afterwards, I hated myself more than ever, but… but he had said something that made me go back. He told me to throw that first Christmas party, he told me to do the big events, he told me how to present myself in public. And it seemed to fix something, so I thought he was right, because you started talking to me again—”

“Ginny, stop,” Draco ordered feebly. 

She did. Her knees felt ready to buckle from under her as fatigue nipped at her and she inched over to her bed. Sitting down, she let her unkempt hair fall in front of her face, shielding her from reality, if only for a moment. 

Ginny heard a dull thump and looked up, her hair shifting, to see that Draco had leaned heavily against the wall. Merlin, what were they even doing? This was exactly what she had feared, that they’d fight until they had nothing left and nothing would be resolved. And now fatigue seemed to settle in their bones. She felt as though they were dueling, each hitting the other with a strong curse and there was no time to rest before the next attack and… and…

It was time to go home.

Getting back to her feet and fighting the urge to groan as her body tried to protest the movement, Ginny looked at her husband. Draco watched her.

“It feels like we hardly know each other anymore,” he admitted quietly, as though telling a secret. “This past week… this past week, I knew you again. It felt normal. I knew this was worth fighting for. That we are worth fighting for.”

Her heart constricted. When Draco looked at her, she wasn’t sure if he was seeing his wife who he had left or the woman he had spent the last week with. They weren’t one and the same. Or, maybe, now they were. Ginny pushed her hair out of her face, annoyed. If she wasn’t able to tell who she was or what she wanted, she couldn’t expect Draco to.

But the idea that he could fight for the person she had been the past week, but not the woman she had been before, left her feeling sick. 

“I’m not the same person I was ten years ago,” Ginny said in a small voice, on the verge of tears again. “I wish I was, I do, because—because this past week, I couldn’t accept that some of the things that happened in my life were because of _me_. I felt like I didn’t know myself anymore. But those decisions I made were my own. Marrying you, and the papers, and not playing Quidditch anymore, and—and I know you loved me then, when we first got together, I know this. But I’m different now. I’ve done things and you’ve done things too, and we’re different people now than we were ten years ago. And I’m not sure we ever really realized that.”

A breeze made the window panes knock together and she jumped, turning around to look for the sound. When she realized it was only the wind, she relaxed, but not before noticing how bright it was outside. 

Draco was staring furiously at the ground when she turned back around. She wondered what he was thinking, but she found it hard to concentrate. Her head was beginning to ache from thinking too much.

“Can we go home now?” Ginny pleaded. “Please. Let’s go home to the children.”

He looked up from the floor, and it was clear his thoughts were whirling. 

“Yes. Let’s go home.”

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

They left the Burrow in silence. When they Apparated in front of their home, a rush of anxiety hit Ginny.

She glanced at Draco, who had shoved his hands in his pockets and was looking up at the house with a blank expression. Why was she nervous to see the children when at the Burrow she was desperate to get to them? Perhaps it was because once she entered her home, once Narcissa and Blaise and the children spotted her, the fight—no, it hadn’t been a fight, it had been a conversation, an argument—with Draco was officially over. 

They’d go back to fake smiles around their family; their perfect act would be back on. After all, they hadn’t really resolved anything. Actually, they had revealed more about themselves than they had in a while, and it seemed to linger between them: her visiting Lucius, him knowing about it, her insecurity about Chang, his inability to fight for her before but his willingness to do it now. Ginny wasn’t sure how they were supposed to pick up that conversation again.

As they began towards their home, she inhaled the crisp air, letting it fill her lungs until it burned. The sound of distant laughter and screeching drifted towards them; they both stopped. The children must be in the backyard. Seemingly on instinct, Draco turned to meet her gaze and her lips parted. The overwhelming desire to hug him, to let him comfort her, hit her hard. She brushed her wedding ring with her right hand, hoping it would bring her some sort of peace.

Instead she couldn’t help but fear she had messed up again. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have rushed to leave the Burrow so quickly. Maybe she should’ve sat down with Draco, pushed her emotions aside and really tried to talk to him. Maybe they should’ve taken an extra hour or two and spent the time together in silence. Maybe she should’ve pushed aside her stubbornness and let her walls collapse.

The rush of her thoughts, though, brought her some clarity.

Ginny was reminded that, as good as it might’ve done to stay longer with Draco at the Burrow to hear him out, her mind was still too caught between her memories of the last week and the memories from before. And she had trouble deciding which emotion to focus on—anger or despair or hope or determination. Above all else, her instinct seemed torn—push him away, punish him for signing the papers and agreeing to leave her, or hold him and never let him go, forgive him as she would’ve done only yesterday.

“Draco,” she began, his name falling from her mouth gently.

The front door opened, forcing their attention from each other. Ginny stared as Blaise walked out, zipping up one of Bill’s old Muggle jackets that her brother had given Draco; Draco never wore it, but he kept it in the closet nonetheless. Blaise was still in the outfit he had worn to Azkaban, though it was noticeably more wrinkled than before. It was another reminder of how much had happened in the past twenty-four hours. 

Blaise’s dark gaze found their surprised ones right away and he made a choked sound. For once rather ungraceful, he stumbled from the porch towards them. His eyes went back and forth between the pair as he checked them over.

“No warning? Can’t send an owl letting a bloke know you’re coming by?” 

It was obvious Blaise was trying to seem nonchalant, but his voice was strained. Ginny let out a choked laugh. She felt Draco look at her, but then Blaise was directly in front of them, forcing Draco’s attention back on him. Blaise reached out, grabbing onto Draco’s shoulder with his right hand and grabbing Ginny’s shoulder with his left.

“Are you okay? Is everything okay? You’re back, so I assume so, right?” Blaise was speaking quickly, looking between them both, as though trying to assure himself that they were truly alright. “You both look exhausted. The children—they’re outside. They saw Marion Marie Margaret out there and decided now’s the perfect time to get her.”

“You left them—” Draco began, seeming only a tad annoyed, but Blaise scoffed, cutting him off.

“Of course not, you fool. Your mother is out there with them. And Yolly. But, really, can one of you answer me—are you okay?”

Blaise’s gaze was on Draco when he asked the question the final time. They must’ve communicated silently for Draco stepped around Blaise a second later. Visibly relaxing, Blaise looked completely at Ginny as Draco walked the rest of the way to the house. The last thing Ginny saw of Draco was his head bowed, shoulders sagged, before the front door closed behind him.

When Blaise cast a warming spell over her, she jolted; she hadn’t realized she’d been shivering and staring at her front door as Blaise watched silently. His eyebrows twitched high on his forehead as he looked her over.

“How are you?” he asked her quietly, as if afraid of startling her.

Before she knew what she was doing, Ginny threw herself at Blaise. He caught her easily, as though he expected it. Burying her face in his jacket, Ginny allowed herself a moment to enjoy Blaise’s embrace; it felt like it had been forever since she had a moment of silence, of peace.

Being out here with Blaise allowed her that. 

It was broken by the sound of the children screaming with joy—Draco must’ve made it to the backyard. 

“They’ll be very happy to see you,” Blaise informed her, tightening his hold on her.

She nodded and sniffed, stepping out of his arms. Offering him a grateful smile, Ginny realized she had little time to talk to Blaise privately before the children would be coming out to see her. Who knew when she’d have time to talk to him, or anyone really, without Draco or the kids around?

“I’m excited to see them too.”

“How _are_ you?” he pressed.

Ginny shrugged.

“I’m fine. Tired. But… but I’ve remembered everything.”

“Everything?”

“I think so. I mean, there’s just… so much.” She inhaled deeply before continuing. “I hope I’ve remembered it all. I can’t handle another morning like this one.”

“After last night,” Blaise started hesitantly. “After our late-night adventure… I wasn’t sure if that had something to do with—with you needing to go to St. Mungo’s. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve told Draco about it. I didn’t but I thought I should’ve. I’ve been worried ever since he came home this morning without you. But I figured it was easier to face his wrath over being left in the dark rather than yours if I tattled.”

The concern that lingered in his words made her stomach squeeze and she reached out, grabbing onto one of his hands.

“He knew already.”

“He knew? About your late-night rendezvous?” 

She nodded.

“Did he know about last night? Is he going to shoot a killing curse my way? Should I be saying my goodbyes?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t mention last night. Asma—he confronted her after my first visit. She’s been writing him after each time I visit Lucius. The way she spoke to me, I never would’ve thought, but she must’ve assumed it was some… some weird thing between me and Draco and she didn’t want to lose her job—”

“Wait, wait, wait. How many times did you visit that man?”

The idea of going over this with Blaise made her feel nauseous. Imploringly, she stared up at him.

“Can we talk about something else? I’ll fill you in, I will, but I’d rather talk about anything other than that right now.”

He frowned but nodded begrudgingly.

“I’m assuming you and Draco talked then? That’s what’s kept you?” 

Ugh, she wasn’t sure which conversation was worse: her many visits to Lucius or her and Draco’s unfinished conversation at the Burrow. Slowly, Ginny nodded. 

“And?”

“And what?”

“Well, you didn’t look ready to kill each other, so how’d it end?”

When she didn’t respond right away, he tugged her closer by her hand. 

“It went badly?”

“No. No, not… not badly. There’s just—Blaise, there was _so much_ we had hidden from each other. I—I don’t know how we can fix this.”

Her voice cracked and she released his hand, stepping away. If they kept talking about her and Draco, she had a horrible feeling she’d end up sobbing, which was another thing she didn’t want to do right now.

Instead, she straightened her back and rolled her shoulders. It helped calm her. Then, as Blaise peered at her worriedly, she spoke.

“Thank you for always being such a good friend to me.”

“Oh, stop,” Blaise responded instantly, though his lips curled into a small grin. “You’re only saying that because you know you’re stuck with me.”

“I’m not joking, Blaise. I’ll never forget how—how nice you were to me this past week and how you made sure we became friends when Draco and I first started dating—”

“Hey, Ginny, don’t think—”

But whatever Blaise was going to say was cut off by the front door opening again. Ginny looked over Blaise’s shoulder, knowing instantly it was one of the children looking for her.

“Mum?”

Orion.

Their gazes locked right away and her breath caught as she looked over her eldest child. He was still dressed in pajamas with a Muggle coat thrown on. His hair was wild; clearly no one had bothered to brush it, given the holiday. And his mouth was stained dark, probably from eating too many Chocolate Frogs.

Ginny stepped around Blaise and she found herself half running towards her son. It felt like her heart was in her throat as she dropped to her knees in front of him. But instead of reaching for her, he took a small step back, caution painted on his face. She forced herself not to touch him, instead taking a second to study him. It was obvious Orion was nervous and hesitant and, for a moment, she wasn’t sure why. He seemed torn between wanting to bolt away from her or jump into her embrace. 

It wasn’t hard for her to realize the truth of the situation. If she could’ve gone back in time, she would’ve slapped some sense into herself.

Because Orion knew about her memory loss. She had told him that day she lost him in Diagon Alley. Orion knew far more about the past week than he should’ve; just one more mistake she had made, burdening a child with her own issues. When he woke up this morning and both his parents were missing, had he assumed that something had happened to her again?

Orion was many things, but he was never uncertain, never uneasy, especially not around her.

She forced herself to relax and tried to think of how to handle the situation. There was no way she could know exactly what Orion was thinking, and now wasn’t the best time for her to apologize for telling him the truth of her accident. Somewhere, her mother-in-law was lurking, along with her two younger children. The last thing she wanted was for Gray and Lyra to realize she hadn’t had any memories of them the past week.

It felt natural, though, to smile at her son. She could remember when her mum and Ron had shown her the picture of her children last week. Orion had been the first child she really examined. Everything about him screamed that he was a Weasley, except for the prideful stance he often had. That alone proved he was his father’s son. 

Her smile widened and he seemed to relax at the sight of it.

“Happy Christmas, Orion,” Ginny said gently, tilting her head to the side.

His eyes narrowed as she spoke before widening when she said his name. He took several steps forward until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. The blue of his eyes was bright as he looked her over. She waited, unsure of what he was looking for.

Ginny was reminded of the searching look Draco gave her after her accident, when he came to pick her up from the Burrow and was waiting for her to say _something_. 

“I’m back,” she whispered.

Orion reached out and pressed his small hand against her cheek. Then, as if he found what he was looking for, he let out something similar to a sob.

“Mum!”

It was as though the name was torn from his throat. She grabbed him as he reached for her with his other hand. Orion buried his face in her neck. She could feel his breath against her skin, hot and quick, a telltale sign that he was on the verge of tears.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, everything is back to normal, darling,” Ginny promised, her lips to his ear. 

His body shook in her arms and she hated herself instantly, _hated_ that she had ever told him the truth about her memory loss. When Orion finally seemed to regain control of his emotions, he stepped out of her embrace. Wiping a hand under his nose, successfully smearing snot on his upper lip, Orion stared at her.

“I thought you had _died_ ,” he admitted, lip trembling. “Nana wouldn’t tell us anything and Uncle Blaise was all—all twitchy and weird and Dad was gone too and when he came back, he was weird too, and you’ve never missed Christmas before, _ever_.”

Orion took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Orion, darling.” Ginny smoothed back his wild locks. Her touch calmed him, and her heart fluttered in the familiar way it did whenever she was with her children. He took another gulping breath. “I’m so sorry. I am. I had to go see a Healer because my memories, darling, they’ve come back. I remember everything.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sniffling.

“Yeah. I remember that you got Granny to help you knit me some gloves for Christmas last year. And I remember that time you climbed the tree, to the very top, at Lysander and Lorcan’s house—do you remember that?”

Orion nodded. The memories came back to her easily, confirming that her mind was intact once more.

“Do you remember when—when Teddy broke Dad’s favorite vase?” Orion questioned, grinning.

“One of the Malfoy family heirlooms,” she said with a cheeky grin that matched his. “Dad wasn’t very happy about that, was he?”

Laughter spilled from Orion, brightening his flushed face as he shook his head. 

“Dad still fixed it, though. I can’t even tell it was broken now!”

“Yeah, your dad did fix it.” She watched him, glad to see him smiling again. “Darling, do you feel better now?”

“Yeah! Dad’s helping catch Marion Marie Margaret right now. She’s trying to come home for Christmas, just like you, Mum, but she keeps running away whenever we get too close.” 

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Ginny said as she heard Blaise approach from behind.

Orion happily turned and ran into the foyer. Ginny stood, the muscles in her legs screaming. Blaise hooked a hand under her elbow, steadying her. 

“Thanks,” she muttered.

They walked in together and Blaise shut the door behind them. Orion was already racing towards the back of the house, where the rest of the family was. For a moment, Blaise and Ginny quietly walked beside each other. Then a sudden thought hit her.

“What does Narcissa know?”

Blaise’s lips pressed together.

“All of it, I believe,” he admitted. “Draco was… rather distraught when he came back after leaving you at your parents’. She took him aside to help calm him. I hadn’t realized he’d told her everything until he went back to check on you, after Pansy sent an owl saying he was needed.”

Ginny almost groaned. She _knew_ that Pansy had written to Draco. When she woke up and saw Harry beside her, though, she had assumed that Pansy had written to Harry instead. Apparently, she had been wrong. 

“What did she say?”

Blaise shrugged, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“Narcissa Malfoy isn’t the easiest woman to read. She simply stated that she wished you and Draco would’ve thought her close enough company to tell about the accident. I’d say there’s some hope that Draco didn’t tell her that your whole family knew about the accident but, well, who knows.”

This time, Ginny did groan. 

“She’s going to kill me. We’d been getting along so well too, the past week.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Ginny sighed. “She sort of told me she was happy that Draco married me.”

Blaise looked at her, jaw dropped.

“ _Why_ didn’t you tell me that?” he hissed.

She shrugged and Blaise pressed his lips together, stopping himself from berating her for more details. The backdoor was open, and they were able to see everyone else outside. The look Blaise gave her promised he’d be bringing this up later.

Ginny, though, focused on what everyone else was doing. Orion had run up to Narcissa and was tugging at her cloak. In the distance, Draco held Lyra on his hip, pointing at something. When they reached the doorway, Ginny saw that Draco must’ve been motioning to Yolly and Gray, who were still chasing the fluffy, white cat around the yard.

Blaise squeezed her elbow once before letting go and stepping completely outside. Fighting the desire to run to her bedroom and hide from her mother-in-law, and her husband, Ginny followed. When Gray turned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her, it made everything seem okay.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

Christmas day passed in a blur. Exhaustion nipped at her continually; even with Blaise pressing a cup of coffee into her hands—and Draco’s—almost every hour, the caffeine seemed to have little effect on either of them. Ginny was glad to be home, really, and even more glad that she remembered everything, but, Merlin, she was tired. Whenever she wasn’t moving, whenever she allowed herself a moment to relax on the couch, her eyes began to drift shut.

It would take one of the children yelling at her, or Blaise nudging her, to get her to wake up again.

Of course, it didn’t help that the atmosphere in the house was… off. Narcissa was polite but emotionless when interacting with Ginny. Ginny also had a feeling Narcissa was watching her whenever Ginny wasn’t paying attention, but she couldn’t be too sure; anytime she looked to the older woman, her attention was on the children or Draco. Draco himself seemed as weary as Ginny. There were times Ginny would glance at him and he was as still as a statue, his eyes unfocused, his chest barely lifting with breath. 

But then he’d take a gulp of air and straighten, blinking rapidly, and he’d seem alive again.

The children, though, were content. Ginny wasn’t sure if they were unaware of the awkwardness of the adults or if they were simply used to the strange atmosphere. Lyra was chatty and bubbly, with poor   
Marion Marie Margaret held tightly in her arms. The cat didn’t seem to mind too horribly, though she did make a desperate escape whenever Lyra’s attention was diverted and her grip slackened. But when Lyra called for her, reaching out, Marion would sullenly return to the little girl.

Gray remained at Ginny’s side most of the day, his tiny hand wrapped in her sweater as he looked through the new books he received or played with a new toy. The sound of his steady breathing was likely part of the reason Ginny had trouble staying awake. 

Despite returning to his normal self after his talk with Ginny in the foyer, Orion kept a curious eye on her and Draco. Unlike his grandmother, he didn’t seem to care when Ginny would catch him watching her. Instead of looking away, he’d continue staring, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as though trying to figure out if something was off or not. Just as often as she caught him looking at her, she’d see him watching Draco. 

She wondered what Orion was thinking.

Narcissa left after nightfall. Blaise offered to sleep on the couch; Ginny had no energy to tell him to leave and, it seemed, neither did Draco. She had a feeling Blaise wouldn’t have left even if they had told him to. As the children gradually passed out—Orion on the floor by Draco’s feet, Lyra underneath the Christmas tree, Gray beside Ginny—Yolly, who had stayed for the whole day, took them to their rooms.   
It was when she was alone in the library with Draco that she realized she should head to bed too. The idea of getting off the couch was extremely unappealing, though. Blaise had offered wine to Draco and Ginny, but they both declined and he let them be.

Ginny had a feeling Blaise leaving was more to give the couple a minute together than to get wine.

But silence reigned between them, other than the wood popping in the hearth. Ginny’s eyes fluttered shut for the hundredth time, sleep reaching out to her. Now would be a good time to talk, she supposed, but it would also be an amazing time to sleep.

“Go to bed.”

She blinked rapidly, sitting up and looking at Draco. He stood by the window, looking out over the yard. When Ginny made no indication that she had heard him, he glanced at her. 

Her breath caught when their eyes met.

“You need sleep. Do you need help up to the room?”

Ginny shook her head silently. Perhaps she should say something—

“We have plenty of time to talk,” Draco said, as though he knew what she was thinking. “Anything we say right now isn’t going to help. I’ll be to bed soon.”

He would? The idea of Draco joining her in bed sent her heart racing. They were still on such odd terms. But they had shared a room for years now, on good and bad terms, in more confused mindsets than this one, she supposed. 

Nodding, Ginny got up off the couch and started towards the hall.

It felt… wrong leaving Draco alone in the library, but she couldn’t deny that he was right. They were both too tired to talk right now. Any conversation they had would probably go in a circle.

After what seemed like ages to get to the bedroom, Ginny collapsed on top of the bed. She should change, she knew, but she didn’t have the energy. Her eyes grew heavy, her breathing evened out, and she could feel herself drifting away just as the bedroom door creaked open.

Lifting her head, sleep driven away momentarily, she was surprised to see that it wasn’t Draco entering the room. It was Lyra. The little girl shut the door behind her before running and jumping onto the bed. Her bottom lip was poking out. Ginny reached for her, pulling the Lyra up towards the pillows.

“You okay?” Ginny asked softly, helping Lyra under the covers.

“Marion Marie Margaret got out of my room,” she replied, yawning. 

Ginny knew that wasn’t the true reason Lyra sought comfort in her parents’ bed; she must’ve had another nightmare. But Ginny didn’t care, half thankful for the buffer her youngest offered if Draco came to bed. Lyra’s eyes were already closing as she buried her head in the pillows. Following suit, Ginny climbed under the blankets and let herself relax. Sleep came easily.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

_Tap, tap._

Ginny sighed into her pillow, aware of what the sound was and wishing it would bloody _go away_. She had been having a wonderfully dreamless sleep, and the last thing she wanted was for reality to come crashing back down on her.

_Tap, tap._

Shifting, she let one eye crack open. It didn’t seem too late in the day; morning light brightened the room, but there still seemed to be a sleepy, quiet vibe to the house. 

_Tap, tap._

Except, of course, for the owl outside her window. 

Ginny started to sit up completely, grumbling as her body ached at the movement, when the bedroom door opened. She jumped, surprised, as Draco entered. He looked at her right away, a frown tugging at his lips.

“The owl was down by the library window, but I didn’t catch it in time,” he said without greeting, as if they were picking up on a previous conversation. 

She watched as he reached the window, lifting it so that the tiny owl could come in. It was familiar to her and, after a moment when her mind caught up to the situation, she realized it was Pansy’s. Draco unwrapped the letter on the owl’s leg, fed it a treat he had been carrying, and shut the window after the owl flew back out of it. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You. There are a few letters for you, actually. Charlie must’ve mentioned to your parents that you had been by yesterday morning; they’ve written to you several times already. And there are others, all down in the library, whenever you’re ready for them.”

“Oh.”

It felt awkward in some way, their conversation, and she feared it was because they had already fallen back into their old routine. Licking her lips, Ginny glanced around the room. She realized then that Lyra was no longer next to her.

“Lyra—”

“I moved her back to her room earlier this morning.”

“What time is it?”

Draco pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it.

“Past nine.”

She nodded. Then, abruptly, Draco took a deep breath and sat on the bed by her feet. Ginny watched, surprised, as he ran a hand through his hair. His scent seemed to wash over her from his close proximity; he must’ve showered already, for he smelled of mint and bodywash. 

Straightening, Ginny self-consciously ran her tongue over her teeth. Merlin, she hadn’t bathed in ages. She must look a mess. 

And… why did he look like he was prepping for another talk? She steeled herself when he spoke.

“Gin…” 

Draco’s eyes traced over her face, taking her in. Then, he continued.

“How do you feel?”

Automatically, she went to say she was fine, but she stopped herself. How did she feel? Well, her body ached from lack of sleep. She felt grimy; a shower and a good scrubbing was in order. But her thoughts were clear. There was no lingering headache, no extreme exhaustion poking at her, no weight on her shoulders. Her emotions weren’t battling for dominance. 

She felt like herself, for the first time in a while.

A small smile settled on her lips at the realization, a true smile. Draco relaxed, ever so slightly, at the sight of it.

“Much better,” she responded. “Really.”

“I’m glad.”

Other than having clearly showered, Draco looked better too. His eyes were bright from getting rest, his skin had some color to it, and his familiar air of confidence was back. She briefly wondered if he had slept in the bed with her and Lyra last night, for she didn’t remember hearing him come in.

“Last night, after you had gone to bed, I talked to Blaise. About everything. It helped me realize some things,” he admitted. “Gin, there’s no—yesterday, I thought we’d be able to simply talk and fix our issues, that after our past week together everything would go back to the way it had been when we first got married. But you were right.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. 

“I realized the past few days how—how desperately I missed you. I remembered how easy things had been. I thought—fuck, I thought when your memory came back, you’d still be the same person you were ten years ago. And that’s not fair, because you aren’t. We’ve changed. You were right; we never seemed to realize that we weren’t the same people we married, that we grew, that we’re different. We’re the same but…”

“But we’re different,” she supplied softly.

Draco nodded curtly.

“I’m different,” he muttered. “I stopped learning who you were. I stopped showing you who I was.”

Ginny watched him, unsure of what to say. 

“I have faith in us.”

His eyes were dark, serious, when he spoke those five words. It felt hard to breathe for a moment. The intensity of his stare was overwhelming. 

“This past week helped—it helped _me_ remember things I had forgotten. How to properly care for you. The way your face changes when I—I say something that makes you happy. How much fun we used to have together and with the children. How much we enjoyed each other. It’s been so long, far too long, since I remembered any of that. We became so engrossed in balancing our lives that we lost ourselves a bit. I had a week to realize that, but for me to expect for you to be ready to discuss that or figure out what you wanted yesterday wasn’t fair. You haven’t had any time to process what happened to you, and…”

Ginny fought the urge to reach for him. He was keeping a careful distance from her, whether to not overwhelm her or not touch her, she wasn’t sure. 

She knew how hard it was for him to express his thoughts and feelings so blatantly. Exposing himself like this, for the second time in a day, was exhausting and _hard_. Draco had never been one to explain the reasoning behind his actions. He was never one to talk about his feelings. Ginny also knew, for a fact, that admitting he was wrong was a rarity for him.

And what he was saying…

“I want our marriage to work. I want _us_ to work. But… but I think we need to rebuild it.”

“Rebuild it?” she echoed dumbly, still trying to process everything he had said.

“We can’t start from the beginning or start over; we have three children and we can’t throw away all of our issues and our past and hope it won’t haunt us. But we can try to rebuild our relationship. We can go as slow or as fast as we want, we can feel it out together, we can figure it out as a team.”

As a team.

_“I like when we’re on the same side.”_

Draco’s admission from yesterday, when he was preparing himself to leave her in her childhood bedroom, came back to her.

She swallowed thickly. 

“How? How do we do that?”

Draco hesitated, a frown twisting on his face. A shiver raced up and down her back; whatever he was thinking they should do, he didn’t want to say. 

“I think I should move in with Blaise.”

She was already trying to object before he finished the sentence. Draco held up one hand tiredly, stopping her.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be here, with you. And I don’t want to leave you alone with the children; that’s not my intention. I want to still be a part of… of everything. But I think if we want to do this, we need some true separation. We need to make sure working on our marriage is really the—the healthiest thing for our family. I grew up in a household where my parents, for years, hated each other. There were years when they were civil and there were years when there was something close to love between them. But it was confusing for me when I was young; it was hard to understand. I grew to accept that marriages were like that, that marriages didn’t have to be… full of respect or patience or love.”

“Draco,” she whispered, heartbroken for him.

He held her gaze.

“I don’t want the children to go through what I did. They already have been. I was… I was turning a blind eye to it, too afraid of losing you yet too afraid to talk to you about it, not realizing I was setting them up for the same life I had. We need to make sure living together, being together, is the best for all of us. I’m not sure we’ll be able to accomplish that if we’re living together.” He paused. “Unless you’d rather—”

“No,” she said right away, knowing what he was going to ask.

Ginny couldn’t imagine living away from the children, being away from them for days at a time, not after having spent almost every day with them. Draco smiled but said nothing. She breathed in slowly as she tried to figure out how she felt about what he said.

_“I have faith in us.”_

He wasn’t asking her to pretend to be the woman she had been two days ago. He wasn’t asking her to forget about their past issues and focus on the future. He wasn’t asking much of her at all. All Draco wanted was for them both to give their relationship another chance. Though, she supposed, that was asking quite a lot. 

Ginny wondered if this could work. For most of the children’s lives, it seemed like Draco wasn’t home and their marriage had suffered from it. How would him living at Blaise’s be any different? Some horrible part of her mulled over the idea that this could be his way of escaping his life here. If he moved in with Blaise and stopped coming by, the separation would likely be easier for the children and her. She couldn’t imagine that was his intention, but she still found it hard to breathe for a moment.

Her mind flashed back to the cold, hard look in his eyes as he pressed a kiss to her cheek before heading to the States. He had left her then. Draco could leave her again. If life outside of this house was better, more appealing, there was definitely a chance he would never come home again. 

This could be his escape.

“Are you just trying to leave again?”

For a brief second, she hated how much her voice shook as she asked the question. It seemed like Draco didn’t hear her, frozen as he stared at her. When her breath hitched, he lurched forward, his eyes widening.

“ _No_ ,” he replied urgently. “I had made a mistake. You asked me to stay before and I left and I was _fucking wrong_ and I didn’t realize it then. And—and I understand why’d you worry about that but I’m not trying to leave, I’m not. I truly think some separation between us, something we both agree on, can give us room to breathe. To figure out our thoughts. I’m not—I won’t ever leave again, not if you don’t want me to. I want to make amends, I want to make this right between us. Please, Ginny, let me make this right.”

There it was, lingering in the depths of his eyes: desperation. He was telling the truth. Draco truly believed that by leaving the house, by giving her space, their relationship would begin to heal.

Begin to heal and, hopefully, begin to grow into something more.

“Blaise really helped you sort your thoughts, huh,” she noted.

Draco stared at her, looking from one eye to the other, before the corner of his lips curled as he realized her uncertainty had passed.

“Sometimes he’s useful.”

“I don’t know if he’ll let you be his new roommate if he hears you say that.”

“Probably not,” Draco allowed, cocking his head. “I _will_ stay, if you don’t want me to leave.”

All Ginny had wanted the past few years was Draco to be home and present. But… but she could see why he thought they wouldn’t be able to get past their issues if they were forced into a small space together. There was simply too much for them to try to navigate through: fights they never finished, questions they never answered, issues they had yet to analyze. Would it be a healthy environment for the children if Draco and Ginny were continually trying to figure themselves and their relationship out?

Probably not. 

But Ginny wasn’t sure it would be a better environment for the children if their father wasn’t home with them. Except, of course, for the fact that he hadn’t been home that often through the years anyway. 

Perhaps Draco was acknowledging his absence by offering to leave. He was certainly taking note of her fears by offering to stay.

“It’s not permanent.” 

She had meant for it to be a question, but it came out stronger, surer; this would not be permanent. They couldn’t let it be.

“It’s not permanent,” he repeated. “If it doesn’t work, if it makes things worse, we’ll… we’ll try something else out.”

“And you’ll what? Come by to pick up the kids on certain days? Draco, I’m just not sure this is going to make any sense to them. The idea of it hardly makes sense to me.”

“Let’s give it a week or two. That’s not long at all. If it’s too hard on the children, or you, or me, we’ll talk about it.”

She could’ve laughed except for the sincerity in his voice.

Draco never liked to talk about anything. But, as he had proven the last few days, he was trying to change that.

“You grew up in a happy household,” Draco pointed out. “Blaise was the one who told me that giving you space might help. And I agree with him. Neither Blaise nor I had parents whose marriages were consistent and happy but you did. If you think differently, if you think doing something else—”

She was shaking her head before he finished. Her marriage to Draco was nothing like her parents’ marriage, or Draco’s parents’ marriage. Maybe Draco moving in with Blaise wasn’t the best idea. But trying to force him to stay home with her the past few years had only pushed them further apart. 

“It’s something to try,” she allowed slowly. “Two weeks. We’ll give it two weeks.”

He nodded, worry shining on his face. And she nodded back.

~.*.~.*.~.*.~.*.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Okay! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. As always, thank you idreamofdraco for being my beta and taking the time to go over this chapter. Without her, I’d definitely be less sure of what I was putting out for you guys to read. She edits without complaint, for free, and on her own time, and I could not write how much I adore and appreciate her because of it. 
> 
> I’m really excited to hear what everyone thinks of this chapter. Your reviews over the past two months, all the kinds words you said and your excitement for this chapter, really helped push me along. I always feel horrible when a chapter takes longer to get out than I want but, man, Draco and Ginny can be particularly stubborn. Honestly, I planned on this chapter being completely different—a lot more yelling and throwing of things—but it came out almost opposite. 
> 
> Please review and let me know what you think!


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